Playing it safe has never felt so dangerous...

Justice Wallington knows how to harness his strength and intimidating size—skills he put to good use first in the MMA cage and now as a bodyguard at the Body Armor agency. But no opponent has ever left him feeling as off balance as his new client, heiress Fallon Wade. Far from a spoiled princess, she’s sweet and intriguingly innocent. It’s a risk-free assignment, until he’s required to fake a relationship with her in order to blend in.

Sheltered from the world after a family tragedy, Fallon longs to experience life—going to bars, dancing, talking to strangers. Not easy with a huge, lethal-looking bodyguard shadowing her every move. Justice seems like her polar opposite, but pretending to be a couple stirs undeniable heat. And when danger strikes again, it’s not just her safety in jeopardy, but a passion that’s real, raw and absolutely against the rules...

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster

“Best friends find hunky men and everlasting love in Foster’s latest charmer.... Her no-fail formula is sure to please her fans.”

—Publishers Weekly on Don’t Tempt Me

“Foster brings her signature blend of heat and sweet to her addictive third Ultimate martial arts contemporary.”

—Publishers Weekly on Tough Love (starred review)

“Emotionally spellbinding and wicked hot.”

—New York Times bestselling author Lora Leigh on No Limits

“Storytelling at its best! Lori Foster should be on everyone’s auto-buy list.”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon on No Limits

“Foster’s writing satisfies all appetites with plenty of searing sexual tension and page-turning action in this steamy, edgy, and surprisingly tender novel.”

—Publishers Weekly on Getting Rowdy

“Foster hits every note (or power chord) of the true alpha male hero.”

—Publishers Weekly on Bare It All

“A sexy, believable roller coaster of action and romance.”

—Kirkus Reviews on Run the Risk

“Steamy, edgy, and taut.”

—Library Journal on When You Dare

Hard Justice

Lori Foster

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

I’m so excited to introduce the second book in my Body Armor series, featuring hot alpha males whose überprotective instincts are put to good use in their role as elite bodyguards.

Justice Wallington, the newest member of the Body Armor agency, is still getting used to his job in personal security, but he knows his background as an MMA heavyweight contender will help any client feel safe. What he doesn’t expect is the attraction he feels to Fallon Wade, the sheltered heiress he’s been hired to shadow. Distraction is the last thing he needs as he works to determine whether the danger to Fallon is real or a figment of her overprotective family’s imagination—but the closer he gets to discovering the truth, the more he finds himself wanting to keep her in his life for good, no matter the cost.

I hope you enjoy Justice and Fallon’s romance. And of course, you’re always welcome to reach out to me. I’m active on most social media forums, including Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Goodreads, and my email address is listed on my website at www.lorifoster.com.

Happy reading!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dear Reader

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

WHEN THE DOORBELL RANG, Fallon Wade’s heart jumped into a beat so furious, it stole her breath. He was here. She wasn’t ready, would never be ready, but she hadn’t been given a choice.

Opening her bedroom door very quietly, she tiptoed to the staircase landing and peeked over.

Her father and mother stood before the man, in her line of vision. But it didn’t matter. He towered over them and it’d take a giant to block him. Holy smokes. He had to be at least six-five.

Muscles bulged everywhere. Like...seriously. Everywhere. Shoulders, biceps, chest, neck; he stood in a casual pose, if a brick wall could ever be casual.

Dark hair stuck up in a messy faux hawk. An untrimmed goatee mixed with beard shadow covered a hard, square jaw. And his nose...well, his nose looked as if it had been broken. At least once.

Or maybe multiple times.

Oddly none of that detracted from his extremely rugged good looks, but rather added a dangerous, sexy edge. He certainly looked more than capable of providing protection.

While her father, no doubt a little shell-shocked, prattled on about what was and wasn’t acceptable for his “precious daughter,” the man shifted his weight, crossed his arms and, with polite impatience, listened.

Until he glanced up at her.

It was a passing glance at first, as if he’d felt her scrutiny and was only mildly curious. But then those dark sinner’s eyes shot back and locked onto her.

Fallon couldn’t have been more flustered if he’d reached out and touched her.

Her father, realizing he’d lost his audience, jerked around to see her, too, and then her mother, as well.

Busted.

With all eyes on her, Fallon cleared her very dry throat and squeaked, “I’ll be down in a minute.” Escaping back into her room with alacrity, she closed the door and collapsed against it.

Hand to her thundering heart, she thought, potent.

Definitely macho.

And big. Oh, so big.

Not at all what she’d been expecting.

Okay, maybe having a protection detail wouldn’t be so bad after all. She had prepared to meet the usual Men in Black clone with the requisite suit, dark glasses and grim expression.

Instead, he wore sneakers, faded jeans and a graphic T-shirt with an open flannel for added warmth. If she hadn’t heard her father lecturing, she would have assumed him to be someone else.

Maybe a landscaper.

Or, given his cross demeanor, something more nefarious—like a burglar.

It took Fallon a few seconds more to get her feet moving, then she darted to the closet with new excitement. Shoot, even having a bodyguard would be an adventure when the bodyguard looked like him.

She stepped into her flat-heeled shoes, found a cardigan to pull on over her top and chose a scarf to drape around her neck. She didn’t particularly like the outfit, but no way would she make him wait while she went through her wardrobe.

After one last fluff of her brown hair and a quick swipe of gloss over her lips, Fallon squared her shoulders, filled her lungs with a fortifying breath for courage and ventured forth.

The second she stepped out, she heard his deep voice and paused to listen.

“No need to worry. I’ll cover her.”

Her father choked, turned it into a cough, and said with authority, “She is not to be alone. Not for a single second.”

“Promise I’ll stick real close.”

Alarmed, her father corrected, “But not too close.”

“Just close enough, then.”

“No one is to get too cozy with her either.”

“No cozy shenanigans,” he said. “Got it.”

“She’s naive and doesn’t understand that thugs—” here her father paused for effect, his narrowed gaze on the man “—might try to use her to get to her wealth.”

“Yeah? That’s happened before?”

“Well...no.” Her father harrumphed in that familiar way that showed his annoyance. “But it’s a very real concern.”

“Anyone know her itinerary?” the man asked.

“Even we don’t know it,” her mother explained.

“That’s good then. Not like anyone can plan to use her if they don’t know where she’ll be.” The bodyguard sounded accepting of all the rules. “Don’t sweat it.”

Fallon strangled on a breath. Dear God, he’d just told her mother not to “sweat it.” In her memory, no one had ever spoken to the refined Mrs. Rothschild Wade in such a way.

It was, Fallon decided, somewhat hilarious.

“I realize it all seems extreme,” her father said. “But Fallon is delicate.”

No, I’m not, Fallon wanted to shout. She’d never been delicate, or naive. It was her parents who couldn’t deal, who couldn’t move on. Their worry had all but crippled her—and she’d helped. In trying not to add to their burden, she’d made things worse. For their sake as well as her own, she had to make some changes.

With a note of humor, the big guy replied, “Promise I won’t break her.”

Fallon snickered, but her mother just stared, so her father rushed to reassure her. And Fallon just wanted to get out the door with her hunky new bodyguard before her parents had a complete meltdown.

Tonight was a meet and greet, and hopefully the path to fun and cutting loose and finally being free. Safely. If all went well, if the bodyguard suited her, she’d get to be on her own, living her life without the shackles of the past. Limited freedom, yes. There were some things that, for her, would never change.

She’d had a very sharp reminder of that lately.

However, she could change the scenery. She could change the outlook and her attitude. And she would.

When she reached the landing at the top of the curving staircase, she saw that he stood there at the bottom.

Waiting.

Again his gaze trapped her. He had a way of staring that consumed a person. Beside him her father looked small, even though Clayton Wade stood nearly six feet tall and looked very distinguished with his silver-tipped hair and impeccable manner.

Holding the handrail and attempting a smile, Fallon started down.

“You will remember your place,” her father said to the man.

Oh, dear God. Mortified, Fallon wailed, “Dad.”

“My place?” the man asked.

“As an avuncular escort who will, at all costs, ensure her safety.”

Fallon wanted to disappear. Did her father honestly think that massive hunk of macho man would be attracted to her?

He looked merely confused, not insulted, so she rushed to move beyond her father’s awkward reprimand.

“You’re my protection detail?”

“Afraid so.”

What did that mean? Did he regret the assignment already—or was he expecting her to regret him? She waited, but he said nothing else, just tracked her every step as she descended.

Her father broke the silence. “Justice Wallington, meet my daughter, Fallon Wade. Fallon, Mr. Wallington is the security I’ve hired from the very respected Body Armor Agency.”

As she got closer, she said, “Mr. Wallington,” in formal acknowledgment.

“Justice will do, Ms. Wade.” His gaze skipped quickly down her body, then forcefully back to her face. He looked to be concentrating.

Did he just check me out? Fallon wasn’t at all sure, but it felt like it and her voice went squeaky again. “All right. Then you must call me Fallon.”

He tugged at a thickened ear. “Works for me. I’m not much for ceremony.”

That prompted her father to start lecturing again. “She is not to be out of your sight.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“If anything happens to her, we will hold you and the agency responsible.”

“Nothing will.”

Her father scowled. “Ms. Silver swears you’re capable.”

“That I am.” Though Justice spoke to her father, he didn’t look away from Fallon, and she shivered at the deepness of the voice that stroked over her skin like a warm caress.

“She also said you were a professional fighter,” her father continued.

“Was once,” Justice agreed. “I fought with the SBC, but I don’t compete anymore.”

“SBC?” her father asked.

“Supreme Battle Challenge. Best known fight organization there is.”

Ah, a fighter. Fallon gave him another quick glance. She supposed that explained the damaged ear, crook in his nose and the outrageous hairstyle. “Not a boxer,” she guessed.

“Mixed martial arts, so kicking, grappling, submissions, but yeah, I’m a pretty good boxer, too.” He jokingly threw a few shadow punches, then, with a glance at her dad, quickly sobered. “Not to brag or anything.”

With a critical eye, her father said, “Admittedly, you’re not what I expected.”

“You were looking for Rocky Balboa? The one in the later movies, not the first? He did get slick in the last few, huh? That’s not me, though. Never will be.”

Such an outpouring left her father stymied for a moment. “Well, my wife and Ms. Silver did suggest that you’d be able to blend in.”

Fallon remained on the last step—and still Justice towered over her. She smiled up at him. “That was my stipulation. That you be able to blend, I mean. I didn’t want a bodyguard to be super conspicuous. But seeing you now, I can’t imagine you blending in too easily.”

He crooked a brow. “Why not?”

“You’re rather large to blend.”

“Depends on where we go, right?” He took her elbow and very unnecessarily helped her down the last step. “Bar, club, steakhouse—no one will pay much attention to me. In this house?” He looked around as if a little put off by the grandeur. “Or a fancy party?” He rasped a big hand over his beard stubble. “I can shave, spiff up a little and force myself into a suit, but that still might not do the trick.”

Fallon couldn’t help but laugh; she found this bodyguard completely delightful. “Well, we’re lucky that there aren’t any parties scheduled.”

“Fallon,” her mother said, her expression curious and expectant. “Are you absolutely certain—”

“Yes and yes,” Fallon replied with enthusiasm, hoping to stem their concerns. Spinning around, she embraced her mother in a tight hug. “I’m very certain, Mother.” Next, she embraced her father. “Please don’t worry, Dad. It’s absolutely fine. I promise you.”

“What time will you be home?”

She smiled as she rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, Dad. I’m twenty-four, so I might just stay out all night.”

Appalled, her father again looked at the man. Her mother lifted her brows.

Wincing inwardly, Fallon glanced back and said, “That is, unless you have a—”

“I’m yours for the night. Keep me as late as you want.”

Everything he said sounded somehow more personal, even intimate. Or maybe that was just her male-deprived brain doing some wishful thinking.

Her smile quavered, but this was too important to turn chicken now. “Perfect. Then if you’re ready?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Was born ready.” He swept a hand toward the door in a ridiculously gallant gesture. “Ladies first.”

Charmed, Fallon hitched her purse strap over her shoulder and started out. Normally she’d wear a coat, too, but late May in Ohio was unseasonably mild this year, even with the frequent rain.

And tonight she wanted to be different. Free.

Eventually, she wanted to be a woman, whole.

* * *

AFTER A QUICK glance at Mr. Wade, who remained stiff and horrified by the sight of him, and Mrs. Wade, who looked like she was waiting for him to perform tricks, Justice went out and pulled the door closed behind him. Whew. Glad to have some fresh air, he inhaled deeply and rolled his neck to relieve the vibrating tension.

The freaking mansion had intimidated him. Who the hell needed a house that big? A few times there, he’d thought for sure his voice would echo back at him.

The obvious wealth had intimidated him, too. The ornate staircase alone probably cost more than what he got paid in a year. The rock on Mrs. Wade’s finger had all but blinded him. He’d been half-afraid to move for fear he’d bump into some pricey shit and break it.

As if all that weren’t enough, Fallon Wade’s father had tried—unsuccessfully—to cow him. The man had a cold stare that probably made lackeys buckle. But behind that act, Justice had seen the real concern.

The man loved his daughter, spoiled as she might be.

Thinking of her...little Fallon was quite the surprise. He’d expected a princess, a snooty brat used to snapping her fingers and having her every wish granted. Instead, he’d looked up that sprawling staircase and found a curious mouse peeking through the rails... Then he’d caught her wicked grin and bursting enthusiasm and knew that looks were deceiving.

He watched now as Fallon Wade practically danced down the wide tiled steps to the circular drive where he’d parked. The printed scarf draping her neck blew out to the sides from an increasing wind.

Brown hair, parted on the side with wispy bangs over her forehead, skimmed just below her shoulders, bouncing with her every step. That hair looked silky enough to be liquid.

When he’d first seen her, he’d noticed the smooth, flushed cheeks, a small straight nose and rounded chin... Really nice mouth, too.

But it was her eyes that got him.

For an otherwise unremarkable face, her eyes were amazing, dark like a doe’s, framed by long, thick lashes and gently arched brows.

The innocence and curiosity in her face was enough for a second look, but the body...

She wore a plain pink crewneck top tucked into a long black skirt, a darker pink cardigan sweater and that fancy scarf.

For a petite girl with slim legs and arms and a narrow waist, she still had curves. Hard to tell much about those curves in that particular outfit, but he had a feeling she’d be pretty sweet all over.

Following her down the steps to the SUV, Justice noticed she had some nice padding around back. There’d be no hiding that heart-shaped ass.

As she headed for his ride with a happy, brisk walk, her black skirt hugged her hips but swished around her knees.

Her face looked young, her body looked ripe and she behaved like a puppy just let off the leash.

Her parents treated her like she was ten instead of twenty-four. Overprotective much? Hell, it had smothered him to see the way they tried to harness her.

Somehow, Justice thought, he had to get a handle on the situation. He’d expected this to be an easy assignment, but so far, nothing added up.

In an effort to understand, Justice drew out his phone and pulled up the internet.

He was aware of Fallon Wade watching him before she asked, “Do you need privacy for your call?”

So even now she wouldn’t complain about his lack of deference? He should be focusing solely on her, but first... “I’m just looking up a word.”

She tipped her head. “What word?”

“Avuncular.”

The wind carried her laugh until it surrounded him.

Smiling, Justice asked, “You think that’s funny?”

Mirth danced in her dark eyes. “And a little embarrassing.”

“Because I don’t know the word?” It finally popped up on the screen.

“No, of course not.” She looked wrecked by his conclusion. “I was in no way judging you.”

That only made his smile widen. He didn’t come off as the most professional person and he knew it. “Then why?”

She faced him from a good distance away. “Because my father felt the silly warning was necessary.”

Avuncular: of or pertaining to an uncle, especially in kindness and manner. “Ah.” Now he got it. “So your dad was warning me against making any moves?”

“It wasn’t personal. Dad feels compelled to make similar warnings to everyone, even though it’s never been an issue.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d hardly need to hire you if I had a string of big, strong guys taking me out, right?”

“Oh, I dunno.” By the minute, she somehow got sexier. Justice didn’t understand it, but maybe it was that quirky smile or those subtle curves she tried to downplay. She definitely didn’t seem spoiled, and in fact was downright modest. “I think if you wanted it, you’d have plenty of guys hoping for a shot.”

Her brows went up. “A shot?”

Justice gave her a long, heated look. “You know my meaning.”

Her dark eyes widened. “Oh.” Surprise, then embarrassment, had her ducking her face.

Damn it, why the hell was he flirting with her? “Sorry. I shouldn’t have...” He shook his head. “Ignore me.”

Appearing both amused and confused by his attitude, she started to speak, and instead lifted her arms out to her sides and turned her face up to the sky. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Dark clouds rolled over one another and humidity hung thick in the air. He liked storms.

They made him horny.

Though this time, he wasn’t sure if it was the storm or the girl. “Sure.” Lengthening his stride, more than ready to get the show on the road, Justice opened the door to the backseat of the SUV. “You want to tell me where we’re going?”

“You mentioned a bar.” She bit her lip. A nice full lip, he couldn’t help but notice. “Is there one you’d recommend?”

Justice couldn’t figure her out. Was she a practiced flirt? Too naive to know how she affected him? For sure, she made him forget himself. He kept focusing on her mouth—plump lips and that shiny gloss... She waited for an answer, but he’d forgotten the topic. “One what?”

“A bar?” She grinned, putting dimples into those pink cheeks. “I’ve never been before.”

Justice took a step back. Naive then, and damn it, since when was that a turn-on? “You’ve never been to a bar?”

“No.” She leaned closer in a conspiratorial way, her face turned up to his, her tone teasing. “Is it fun?”

Could be, depending on her idea of fun. But if she’d never been before, why pick now, tonight, with him of all people?

Suspicion got the better of him. “What are you hoping to do at this bar?”

“Drink a little.” Her nose wrinkled again. “That’d be a first, too.”

Justice folded his arms over his chest. “You’ve never had a drink?”

“Wine a few times at galas, but that was long ago.” Though she still smiled, shadows suddenly saddened her expression.

Justice had the awful urge to comfort her. He resisted with stoic effort. “How can it have been long ago when you’re so young?”

“Twenty-four isn’t that young, and if you want me to be specific, I’ll say that I haven’t had wine since the night I turned nineteen. Besides, it isn’t wine I want to try.” The impish grin returned. “I want a beer.”

“Beer?” She made beer sound scandalous. Every girl he knew occasionally had a beer, even if she didn’t particularly like it.

“Yes.”

Justice rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, well, you can do that at every bar everywhere.”

She laughed. “Let’s see. I’d also like to dance. Maybe chat with new people. And I want to have fun.”

How the hell did she figure to do any of that when her daddy didn’t want anyone within spitting distance of her? A raindrop fell, then a few more...and Justice knew the skies would open up soon. He took her arm and tried to urge her into the backseat of the SUV.

She resisted. “I’ll ride up front.”

Taken by surprise, he did his parrot act and repeated, “Up front?” Clients never rode up front. Definitely not young female clients.

She stared at him with those big soul-sucking eyes. “Unless that’s a problem for you.”

The only problem, so far, was his reaction to her. But hell, as the client, she got to call the shots, so... “Suit yourself.” He switched direction, closing the back door and opening the front.

The raindrops began pelting the ground in earnest, so she hurriedly seated herself.

Jogging around the hood, Justice narrowly avoided the sudden deluge. He checked that Fallon had on her seat belt, then, instead of driving, he returned to her earlier question. “There are a bunch of bars in the area. I don’t know much about them, though.”

“Really? I thought most guys...that is...” Her cheeks pinked. “You don’t drink?”

“Sure. But usually I head back to Warfield to Rowdy’s when I want to drink and relax with friends.”

“Rowdy’s?”

“A bar that’s gotten popular with fighters.”

“Fighters who are your friends?” she asked with interest.

He eyed her warily. “Yeah.”

“I’d love to go there sometime.”

A hint? Was she another groupie hoping to hook up with a fighter? God knew they came from all age ranges, backgrounds and interests. “It’s a no-go for tonight.” Hopefully Ms. Fancy-pants wouldn’t insist. “I’d need to ensure first that things aren’t too chaotic before I take you there. The bar has some rambunctious parties.”

She sighed. “Yes, I suppose tonight we should stick closer to home.”

“As to that, I should have been told your plans in advance so I could scope out any place you wanted to go.”

Brows coming together, she said, “I’ve never heard that rule.”

She sounded a bit stiff, and Justice bit back his smile. “Yeah, well, now you know.”

The frown intensified. “Going forward, I’ll plan accordingly.”

“Good.” Rain made the windows opaque and insulated them from everything outside the car. He could practically hear his own heartbeat, could definitely hear her soft breathing. The sense of intimacy made him uneasy. “So what are we doing now?”

“I’ll settle for a more local bar. Anyway, it’s probably a good idea that we don’t travel too far, just in case.”

“In case what?”

“In case we don’t suit.” She gave him a quick, firm glance. “If all goes well tonight, well then, there’s a lot more I’d like to schedule.”

He’d already been told that when he took the assignment, but still he repeated, “More?”

She ducked her face and pressed her hands over her skirt, smoothing an imaginary crease. “More...like every night? Did no one tell you this could be a month-long detail?”

“Yeah, I knew it.” Why was she being so shy now? “I was told we’d be getting acquainted, but I thought most of that would be at your house with your mom and dad.”

She laughed. “Nooo.”

Yeah, it’d probably be impossible with those two hawks overhead. “So here’s how it usually works. You tell me where you want to go, I find the best route to get there, then scope out the place in advance to ensure I know the different exits, if it’s secure, stuff like that.”

She flapped a hand. “That’s not necessary. Honest. I mean, I suppose that makes sense for most people who need protection. But overall, my parents just wanted to ensure I could explore safely. There will be plenty of other people at the bar, right? Lots of people who visit daily?”

“Sure.” Long as he didn’t take her to a dive, it shouldn’t be a problem.

“Why don’t you pick one, and we’ll give it a shot?” She grinned. “What could go wrong?”

Justice didn’t bother answering. If the alarm bells going off in his head were any indication, he figured they’d both find out soon enough.

* * *

FALLON REJECTED JUSTICE’S first two choices. One was too swanky for the way she’d dressed, and the other looked more like a club. She wanted a regular, everyday bar with everyday people and, finally, on his third try, she agreed with his choice.

A multitude of fluorescent signs filled the big front window of The Broken Pony. People loitered outside, some openly making out, others smoking, groups talking. The parking lot across the street nearly overflowed.

Because it was still pouring, Fallon said, “Drop me off at the door, please.” The thought of walking in there alone made her breathless with nerves, but otherwise she’d be soaked, so—

“No can do,” Justice said. “I promised to stick like glue, remember?” He swung the SUV into the lot, drove up one row then down another until he found an empty space a good distance from the bar.

“I’ll get wet.”

He paused in the process of turning off the car, blew out a long breath, then said evenly, “I’ve got an umbrella.”

He reached around to the backseat, coming very close to her as he did so.

And oh, God, he smelled good. Not like aftershave, just like...man. Fallon tried to take a deep breath without being too obvious.

He gave her a look as he settled back, now with a black umbrella. “You okay?”

She nodded fast. “Yes.”

Without looking convinced, he said, “Stay put. I’ll come around.”

After pocketing the keys, he opened the door, popped up the umbrella and circled the hood to her side of the car.

By necessity, she had to step out very near him to stay shielded under the umbrella. He didn’t bother trying to protect himself from the storm.

“Come under with me,” she insisted.

He hesitated.

“Please, Justice? I’ll feel terrible otherwise.”

Reluctantly, he moved up against her back, his arm around her as he tilted the umbrella to block the worst of the rain blowing toward them. “C’mon.”

With every step, their bodies touched. She could smell him again, a rich masculine musk, and better than that, she felt his incredible heat.

Why, even if the bar turned out to be a bust, this alone was a wonderful new experience.

He kept her sheltered from the storm until they’d stepped into the bar, then he turned her so her back was against a wall and he stood in front. While closing the umbrella, he visually scoured the room.

Teasing, Fallon asked, “Safe to proceed?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.” His grin took the sting from the comment. “How about those seats at the bar?”

The men to the left of the empty stools looked like a rough motorcycle club, and the men to the right could have been a college fraternity group. She loved the differences. “Yes, please.”

“It’s crowded, so stay close.” He pulled her around in front of him and left one big, warm hand on her shoulder, guiding her as they maneuvered through the crowds. Soon as they reached the bar, he mean mugged the men on either side of them until they turned away.

“So what’s it to be?” He helped her onto the high round stool. “Still want a beer?”

She could smell the alcohol in the air. In the background, loud music played. Belatedly, Fallon realized that she probably should have eaten something before now, but earlier she’d been too nervous. “Yes, please.”

“You sure? ’Cuz you don’t look sure.”

Trying for more confidence, she said, “Beer.”

“All right, then.” He ordered one.

“You aren’t going to drink with me?”

“I’m on duty.”

“Working for me, yes? So I insist.” She leaned close to ensure he’d hear her, then whispered, “I’ll feel less awkward.”

His gaze went from her eyes to her mouth, then away. “Hey, if you insist, who am I to argue?” He asked for another beer.

The man to her right glanced at her again, then turned for a closer look. Fallon didn’t smile. She must have been too surprised by the attention.

The young man glanced at Justice next—then quailed. When she looked at Justice, she saw only an innocent expression, one brow raised. But she wasn’t buying it, especially since the man turned back to his friends, spoke low, and together they vacated their seats.

“Hey,” Fallon complained. “I was going to talk to him.”

Justice snorted. “It wasn’t talk he wanted.”

“How do you know?”

“The way he looked you over? Besides, he was already crocked. You don’t want to deal with that.”

From the other side of her, a guy said, “I ain’t crocked.”

Justice narrowed his eyes. Fallon quickly turned to see the biker grinning at her. She had the fast impression of frazzled brown hair in a long ponytail, a ridiculous handlebar mustache, broad shoulders under a black T-shirt and leather vest.

Fallon said, “Hello.”

“’Lo yourself, honey.” He ignored Justice and asked, “What’s up?”

Lifting her glass, Fallon said, “I’m having a beer.”

His grin widened. “I’m guessing this ain’t your usual place, is it?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Little bit.” Swinging around to face her, he said, “So besides riling the big guy, what’s the plan?”

“Oh, I’m not trying to rile him.” But one glimpse at Justice showed he was more than a little fired up. “Justice,” she said. “Anything wrong?”

“Not yet.” His eyes narrowed on the man. “And it’s going to stay that way, isn’t it?”

“What’s happenin’ here?” the biker asked. “You two a thing?”

“No,” Fallon denied. “We’re—”

“I’m watching out for her.” Justice, too, smiled, but it wasn’t a nice sight. More like a warning.

She sighed. “Justice is—”

“Look,” Justice said, standing and taking her arm. “A booth opened up.”

She barely had time to snatch up her beer before he led her away. Two other men got to the seats at the same time, but Justice stared them down until they detoured away without a fuss.

“Really,” Fallon said, a little irate. “Was that necessary? I’m here because I want to visit with people.”

“Not those people,” he said, and he downed his beer in one long impressive swallow.

Digging in, Fallon insisted, “Any people I choose,” and she, too, tipped up her beer.

Then almost gagged.

She swallowed the big gulp rather than spit it back into the glass, then stuck her tongue out. “Gak. That’s awful.”

Justice looked at her, then grinned. “Did that quench your thirst?”

Her face still scrunched, Fallon hunted through her purse for a mint. Unfortunately she didn’t have any.

Justice pushed the glass toward her. “Take another sip. It’ll help.”

“I’ll vomit.”

He chuckled. “Nah, you won’t. Trust me.”

She did want to learn, so she held her nose and sipped. It wasn’t quite as bad since she’d taken such a small taste.

Wearing a lopsided smile, Justice asked, “Better?”

She shook her head, continued to hold her nose, and drank again. This time, Justice put a finger at the bottom of the glass and held it there, encouraging her to keep drinking.

When she’d finished it, she burped, covered her mouth and blushed.

He laughed. “There you go.” He held up two fingers, and a minute later a very pretty waitress carried over two more beers.

Fallon eyed them with disgust, until it dawned on her that Justice had just given the woman money. “I need to pay for the drinks.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

She snickered. “You said the same thing to my mom.”

“Did I?” He settled back and watched her.

“No one, ever, has said anything like that to her. It cracked me up.”

His expression warmed. “You already feelin’ that beer?”

“No.” She did feel sleepy though. Holding her nose once more, she again drank, but this time she sat back so Justice couldn’t reach her drink. “At least it’s cold, huh?”

For such a big guy, he looked awfully gentle as he smiled at her. “So what’s the plan? Can you enjoy yourself without hitting on a thug?”

“Thug?” she asked. “Who?”

“Either one of those yahoos at the bar. That first kid was looking for trouble, and the other guy lives trouble.”

“So neither one was safe?”

Idly turning the beer, he surveyed her, then shook his head. “Looking like you do, not sure anyone in here is safe. At least, not to daddy’s standards.”

Making air quotes with her fingers, Fallon mimicked his voice and said, “Daddy’s standards.” She started laughing and couldn’t stop. “That’s so funny.”

“You think so?”

When she nodded, her vision swam, so she held her head. “Yes. Dad really is outrageous.”

“How come? I mean, what’s he so worried about?”

She clammed up, unwilling to give too much away. “We’ve only lived here a short while—” like a year “—and he’s unfamiliar with the area.”

Justice pushed her drink toward her again.

She dutifully sipped before looking around. “People are dancing. I want to dance.”

Wary, Justice straightened and surveyed the gyrating bodies on the floor. “I don’t know...”

But she’d already stood. She took one last drink of her nasty beer, then started for the floor.

Justice caught her hand.

Wow, another revelation. For such a big man he had a very gentle hold.

He released her. “Stay where I can see you.”

With a sharp salute, she said, “Yes, sir.”

She loved to dance but rarely had the opportunity, and never in a place like this. Here, in the boisterous crowd, no one would pay any attention to her.

That is, no one except Justice, because he never took his gaze off her.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE’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.”

CHAPTER THREE

JUSTICE CALLED LEESE PHELPS on his drive home. He knew he shouldn’t; it was the middle of the night and his buddy would be sleeping, but damn it, he needed to unload. Since Leese was the one who’d gotten him involved with Body Armor, was in fact the one who’d mostly trained him, he seemed the likely person to pester now.

Proving he’d checked the caller ID, Leese answered with, “Everything okay, Justice?”

“Yeah. Sorry for waking you.”

“Cat and I went to bed late after a movie. We’ve only been asleep for a few hours.”

Cat, short for Catalina, was Leese’s new fiancée and a real peach. “Give her my apologies.”

“It’s fine. What’s up?”

“I got fired.”

There was a pause, then Leese asked, “She didn’t like you?”

He honestly didn’t know what Fallon thought or, once she got sober, if she’d mind that he was canned. “Was her dad who cut me loose.” Justice’s thoughts churned, interrupted only by the hiss of the tires over wet pavement. There were few people out this late on such a stormy night. “And maybe,” Justice admitted, “he had good reason.”

As he drove, Justice shared everything that had happened, including the skirmish in the parking lot that he hadn’t reported.

When he finished, he waited for Leese to tell him the various ways he’d fucked up the assignment.

Instead, Leese said, “Sounds like it was out of your control.”

It took Justice a second to soak that in. “You think?”

“Reporting an attempting mugging is routine, but if the client insists otherwise... I’d have done the same as you. Every so often, things go sideways and you just have to roll with it.”

Justice grinned. He knew his friend had gone off script more than a few times where Catalina was concerned. She’d been a pretty damned challenging assignment.

“I have to be at the office tomorrow,” Leese said. “Why don’t you come on in and we’ll talk with Sahara.”

“You think Mr. Wade will ask Sahara to assign someone new?” Justice hated the idea of any other guy being Fallon’s bodyguard, but still he asked Leese, “Maybe you?”

“Nah,” Leese said. “I’m already on detail at the convention center for the outdoor show. Besides, if her dad was that pissed, odds are he’ll not only switch guards, but agencies.”

Justice winced. Sahara wouldn’t be too happy about that. She prided herself on keeping clients happy. “I guess you’re right.” Having the whole agency lose out was even worse. Body Armor offered the best protection around. If Fallon’s dad switched, Fallon would have to settle for second best.

“You should get a new assignment right away,” Leese said. “Meet me tomorrow at nine and we’ll work it out with Sahara. Another job will help you put this one behind you.”

“Yeah, all right.” Justice said his farewells and disconnected the call. Hopefully the new assignment would be something easier, maybe a dignitary dodging death threats. That, Justice thought, he could handle.

Hell, anything would easier than a nearly impossible to resist, far too innocent, curious and sexy girl...who looked at him with awe. So why did he already miss her?

* * *

FALLON WOKE EARLY with a sinking sensation in her stomach.

Not from the alcohol.

Awareness of how badly she’d blundered had her pulling the covers over her head. Good God, she’d gotten smashed and played the fool. When she thought of how carefree she’d been on the dance floor, her face heated.

When she remembered how many times she’d tried to coerce Justice into joining her, each time without success, humiliation made her groan.

He, at least, had behaved with decorum. What must he think of her now? Likely nothing good.

She’d compromised him. Rather than cower, she had to set things right.

The second Fallon left the bed, she realized she’d put her nightgown on backward. Grumbling to herself, she showered and dressed in record time, then entered the breakfast room, anxious to make amends.

Her father was already at the table, his tablet open in front of him as he read the morning news, a cup of hot tea at his elbow. Her mother, dressed in a pretty spring dress and her hair now up, nibbled on toast while typing in email replies for her insanely busy social calendar.

When Fallon cleared her throat, her mother looked up.

Her father did not.

“Fallon? Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

Awkward. And anxious. Hopeful to the point of desperation. Fallon said only, “I’m fine, Mom. Thanks.” She helped herself to tea, cautiously watching her father.

“No residual effects?”

“No. Except that I’m hungry.”

Her mom laughed, but her father continued to ignore her.

Fallon let out a sigh. “Dad.”

“Good morning,” he said, his gaze still on the tablet.

“Dad,” she complained as she took a seat beside him.

Frustration visible, he finally looked up. And waited.

Put on the spot, Fallon cleared her throat again. “I’m sorry about last night.”

He nodded, and went back to reading.

“Really?” Fallon narrowed her eyes. “That’s all you have to say?” She waited for his reciprocal apology.

After a deep breath, he pressed a button on the tablet to shut it down and gave her his undivided attention. “There’s no reason to apologize, Fallon, and no reason to discuss it. Your mother and I talked and we both understand that you haven’t had much opportunity to spread your wings. Last night was an aberration, better forgotten.” He smiled. “We’ll put it behind us as a lesson learned.”

Incredulous and insulted, Fallon sucked in a breath. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.” He reached out and patted her hand. “I officially dismissed Mr. Wallington first thing this morning. You don’t need to worry.”

Fury gathered as Fallon stared at her father. “Now I know you’re joking.”

Her mother interjected, “Unfortunately, Fallon, you know your father rarely jokes.”

She flattened her hands on the tabletop. “You already called the agency?”

“And spoke with Ms. Silver herself. She, too, sends her apologies and offered a full refund.”

Fallon shoved back her seat. “Call her back!”

“I’ll do no such thing.” Throwing down his napkin, her father pushed back his chair and he, too, stood.

Her mother quickly circled the table and positioned herself between them. “I know Sahara Silver quite well. Lovely lady. Very shrewd. I’m sure she’ll give the situation time to cool down before actually acting—”

“I told her my decision was final.” Her father’s expression pinched. “I also told her that her man had gotten you drunk to the point that he had to carry you in, and that he’d engaged in violence in your presence.”

Fallon saw red. “The bar was my idea. I picked the place. I chose to drink. And Justice did exactly as you asked—he kept every other person a mile away.” Hoping for a smidge of understanding, Fallon snapped, “I even had to dance alone! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Her father ignored most of what she’d said to focus on one thing. “Justice?” he repeated with a scowl. “Now you’re on a first-name basis with the man?”

“Clayton,” her mother reprimanded. “Of course they’re on a first-name basis. This is a more casual assignment—”

“An assignment the two of you insisted on!” Fallon said, more than ready to fight her own battles. “I didn’t need a bodyguard to be a normal person.”

“Fallon...” Her father reached for her, but she stepped back.

“The fight wasn’t his fault either. He was the perfect protection. I didn’t even see what happened, it was over with so quickly. I only know that no one got near me because he didn’t let them.”

Not budging an inch, her father said, “What’s done is done.”

Giving up, Fallon realized that she wouldn’t be able to reason with him. Whenever challenged, the inimitable Mr. Wade dug in. “Fine,” Fallon said. “You don’t want to hire him, then don’t. I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Oh, dear,” her mother whispered. “Fallon, honey, he’s quite expensive.”

“I have more than enough of my own money.” Breathing harder, Fallon said, “I’m twenty-four and it’s time I lived my own life.”

“I forbid it!”

Her eyes flared at her father’s vehemence. “Why? Because then you won’t have control?”

Silence fell around them. After several tense seconds, her father removed his reading glasses and rubbed at his forehead. “I’ve never yelled at you before. Not in anger.”

Fallon saw his remorse. “I’ve never yelled at you either.”

Using that as an opening, her mother said, “This is important to her, Clayton. Surely you see that.”

Once again, the silence stretched out...until Fallon couldn’t take it anymore.

“Dad, I understand how you feel. I really do.” But she’d let that understanding isolate her to the point that her parents thought she needed a bodyguard just to go out. “The thing is, I’m doing this with or without your blessing.” She clasped his hand. “I’d prefer it with.”

Defeated, he nodded, and even managed a dim smile. “And I’d prefer to be the one who hires him.”

Fallon almost groaned. Somehow, some way, she needed to gain her independence. “Dad—”

“I’ll go call the agency now.”

* * *

DISGRUNTLED AFTER A sleepless night filled with regret, Justice slouched in a seat in his boss’s office at the posh Body Armor Agency. He’d only been on the job for four months. First he’d worked part of a case with Leese—a case that ended with Leese getting engaged. Then he’d had a longer stint with a movie star cast in an MMA movie roll. The duties of that job had been twofold: protect the client from rabid fans during the local shoots and teach him how to portray a fighter during the action scenes.

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.”

She said it like she spoke to an idiot. Amused by the show of temper, Justice grinned. “Tell you what, if you have enough free time tonight, how about I take you to Rowdy’s? I’m already familiar with it and I’m betting the guys I know will be around. If you want to dance with them, no sweat.”

She looked tempted, and still riled. “I don’t want you coercing anyone to do you a favor. I’m not a charity case.”

“Far from it.” Hell, he’d probably still have to read the riot act to any man—friend or not—who got too close. “So what do you say?” To help convince her, he added, “You can try another beer, but this time just one.”

She stewed a minute more before finally nodding. “Well...all right. But, Justice, you have to trust me to do my own fending off, okay?”

Now that he had a destination, he started the car and pulled away. “That’s a no-go. It’s my job to—”

“You are only to protect me if things get out of hand!”

Yeah, she had a point. But with a woman like Fallon, that could happen in the blink of an eye.

* * *

THEY WEREN’T ON the road long when Justice cleared his throat. Over the next twenty minutes he did it several more times, repeatedly glancing her way, and Fallon assumed he was uneasy about her scolding.

Because he wore his mirrored sunglasses, she couldn’t see his eyes. Not that she needed to. The tension in his big body, in his broad shoulders and the set of his jaw, told her he was on edge.

She remained a little irked at his high-handed attitude, but clearly that mood wasn’t conducive to a nice evening so she decided to break the ice. With a slight huff, she faced him. “Something on your mind, Justice?”

A long exhale left his posture more relaxed. “Whew.” He flashed her a relieved grin. “That silent treatment was getting to me.”

Fallon hid her smile. For such a big, bulky guy, he’d really let one little disagreement bother him. “Then why don’t we chat?”

As if he’d been waiting for that invitation, Justice said, “Good idea. Who’s Marcus?”

Well, shoot. She’d walked right into that one. “Nobody important.” Not anymore.

“Nah, don’t give me that. He’s somebody, or at least he was. You cut ties on him?”

“Yes.” Or more like Marcus had cut ties—with his reaction.

He frowned. “Hung up on him still?”

Emphatic, she said, “Noooo.”

“No?” he clarified.

“Not even a little.” Marcus had bruised her pride, wounded her spirit and dashed her hopes, but she knew she’d never really loved him. “He was...convenient.” She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds terrible, doesn’t it? Very mercenary. The thing is, he works for my dad and my parents liked him. He was familiar with the family.” And all her secrets. “It seemed easy to fall into a pattern with him.” Easy, and oh, so stupid.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Justice said, “I don’t like him.”

He sounded so sincere, she couldn’t help but point out the obvious. “You don’t even know him.”

“Sure I do. See, fighters learn how to size people up real quick. You get in the cage with a guy and you have to know if he’s quiet because he’s afraid, or because he’s that confident. Does he talk smack to counter insecurities, or because he knows he can back it up? I can read body language and Marcus is a putz.”

Fallon laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, but he really isn’t. He’s successful and engaging and people love him.”

“Not me.” Justice squeezed the steering wheel. “Not you.”

Good point. “We’re the exceptions, then.”

“Nope. Your dad wasn’t too keen on him either, let me tell you.” Justice glanced in the rearview mirror, frowned, and then took an exit. “So what happened? What’d he do?”

She couldn’t believe his audacity. “That’s private, Justice.”

He chewed his upper lip, rolled one shoulder, and said with complete seriousness, “I have to know these things. I mean, what if he shows up and tries to start trouble?”

Fallon laughed. “He won’t. In all ways, Marcus is proper.”

“Asshole wasn’t all that proper today. Proper is letting a lady go when she asks.”

“Justice!” It took all her control not to laugh. He did have a way of saying things.

Jaw working, Justice grumbled, “I wanted to cream him.”

It was ridiculous, but his vehemence warmed Fallon’s heart. She touched his rigid shoulder and said, “I’d prefer that you didn’t.”

“Okay, so help me out here—what’s his crime? If I know, then maybe, maybe, I won’t feel the need to stomp on him.”

For the first time since the breakup, Fallon felt like talking about it. Oh, she wouldn’t give him every detail. She’d learned her lesson on sharing too much. But given Justice’s defense, and the fact he didn’t know all her secrets, he might be the perfect person to listen.

“I’m on the edge of my seat here,” he said. “Imagining all kinds of crazy stuff.”

Belatedly, she withdrew her hand, but her palm continued to tingle. She curled her fingers into a fist, holding on to the sensation.

Justice’s shoulder was boulder hard and so warm that she couldn’t help but think about touching him again, wrong as she knew it would be.

“Honestly, it wasn’t all that much.” The hazy setting sun glared through the windshield, giving her a good excuse to hide behind her own sunglasses. Now where to begin? “Marcus and I started out as just friends. I...haven’t done much dating.”

What an understatement.

Not wanting him to ask about that, she quickly continued. “There are some occasions where you’d really like a date. Weddings, company parties, things like that,” she explained. “I knew Marcus through the company, he was nice, others admired him...”

“And you bought into that shit?”

She bit back a smile. “My dad was really pleased when Marcus asked me to a company gathering.”

“So what? Your dad didn’t have to date him.”

That time the laugh broke free. “For some reason you’re biased.”

“I told you, I’m a good judge of character.”

Curiosity got the best of her. “So what do you think of me?”

Becoming uneasy again, Justice said, “Finish your story first.”

Fallon thought about it, then decided he was right. Better to get it over with. “We did the whole friend thing for a while until finally, maybe a month later, Marcus wanted more than that, but my parents have been really overprotective.”

“Noticed.”

Of course he had. Not like he could have missed that. “I didn’t have much experience with guys, and Marcus was...patient.”

Interest sharpening, Justice growled, “You’re talking about sex?”

She wished she could be as plainspoken as him. But his question alone made her face hot. Lifting a hand in a lame gesture, she said, “Stuff that comes before that.”

“What stuff?”

Fallon shifted. “You know what I’m saying.”

He chewed his lip again. “Okay, so we’re talking foreplay, right? Making out, groping a little, testing the water so to speak.”

“Yes, exactly.” And all that had gone well enough as long as she left on her clothes. “We seemed to suit...until it came time for the deed.”

He snorted a laugh. “The deed?” he mimicked. With a teasing glance, he asked, “We’re still talking sex, right?”

“Yes,” she growled, her eyes narrowed as Justice made her feel foolish.

“Let me tell you, if Marcus screwed that up, then good riddance.”

Yes, he’d definitely screwed it up. The same strangling humiliation swamped her. “We found we didn’t suit and that there could be no future between us. Not in any intimate way.”

“Holy shit,” Justice breathed. “He did screw it up. Jesus, what a putz.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

He snorted another laugh. “If you say so. But now I just feel sorry for him.” This time Justice reached out and patted her knee. “The idiot will be regretting that the rest of his life.”

It blew her away that Justice seemed to consider her such a prize. “Why would he regret it? Because he works for my father? I don’t think Dad would—”

“Yeah, your dad definitely would. But what I meant was that he’d lost out with you.” Justice got back on the expressway before saying, “You know you’re a catch, right?”

He didn’t know her well enough to make that judgment, but she enjoyed hearing it anyway. “You think so?”

“Know so. I mean, what’s not to like, right?”

She half turned to face him. “So tell me, what do you consider my sterling qualities?”

He glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Would that be crossing a line? I mean, I don’t look forward to your dad unloading on me again.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

He grinned wide enough to put dimples in his whiskery cheeks. “Alrighty, then. For one thing, you’re cute as hell. Big bedroom eyes, soft sexy mouth, and you have such a sweet little body.”

Fallon ducked her head as guilt swamped her. “I don’t.”

“See, this is why I should pound on Marcus. Did that prick say or do something to make you—”

“No.” Caught between wanting to laugh and dying of embarrassment, Fallon said, “And your language is deteriorating by the second.”

“Let’s blame Marcus,” Justice grumbled. “He brings out the worst in me.”

Shaking her head, Fallon said, “You’re incorrigible.”

“Just speaking the truth.” He grew more serious. “You’re also really nice. And smart. You have a good sense of humor. You’re daring. And... I dunno. You’re genuine.” With a fast shrug, he added, “I didn’t expect that. I thought with you being rich and all, you’d maybe be snooty or bitchy, but you’re not. You’re real down-to-earth.”

Never in her life had she been so flattered. “Thank you, Justice.” For obvious reasons, compliments to her character were far nicer than commenting on her physical appearance.

He gave a nod, then said, “You also look really great dancing. Too good, maybe.”

Having no idea what he meant by that, Fallon said again, “Thank you. I haven’t had much practice dancing either, but I enjoy it.”

“I could tell that you did,” he murmured. “Hell, every guy there could tell.” Then he asked, “Marcus never took you dancing?”

“A few times. Not often.” She didn’t want to detail everything she hadn’t done, so she switched gears. “While we’re discussing Marcus, I should probably explain that none of this was his fault.”

Justice snorted. “I saw him, remember? He was all butt-hurt and bossy, probably because he knew he’d screwed up.”

Fallon choked. “Butt-hurt?”

He grinned again. “Yeah, you know. All pouty and belligerent.”

“I’ve, ah, never heard the term.”

He dismissed that with a shrug. “Take my word for it—men don’t act that way unless they’re butt-hurt. Not real men, anyway.”

With Justice having been a fighter, his ideas of how real men should behave might differ from many others. “Could I ask you something now?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you give up fighting when you’re so obviously good?”

“Ouch.” He gave a theatrical wince. “Tough question. See, I’m not that good. Not good enough to win a title and that’s what it’s all about.”

“But you’re fast, and strong and—”

He grinned at her. “Keep going.”

“Admittedly, I don’t know that much about fighting, but I was certainly impressed.”

“Because,” he repeated, “you don’t know that much about fighting. The dudes you’ll meet tonight at Rowdy’s? Some of them are top-notch. Championship quality. Without sounding too cocky, I am good, but only against untrained idiots. You could throw street thugs at me all day long and I wouldn’t break a sweat. But in the cage...” He gave a small shake of his head. “Whole different ballgame.”

Fascinated, Fallon thought about the men she’d meet, even while wanting to know more about Justice. “How so?”

He lifted one hand from the wheel and curled it into a tight fist. Muscles bulged all along his forearm, his biceps, shoulder and into his neck. “I have bricks for fists. Real knock-out power. Problem is, trained fighters aren’t still long enough to let me hit them. MMA is a mixed fighting style, so it’s not just boxing. It’s grappling, too.”

“Grappling?”

“Sort of a mix between wrestling, submission and strikes. My takedowns are too slow and once I’m on the ground the best fighters have an advantage over me with speed. If I get hold of a guy, or if I can land a punch or kick, I can put him down. That’s my strength.”

She agreed—he looked very strong.

“But any scenario other than that and I’d get in trouble. The losses I had were all submissions.”

“How many losses did you have?”

“Twenty wins, six losses.”

“Pfft. And for that you gave up?”

He scowled at her. “There wasn’t a path to the belt. The heavyweight title holder is a beast. He beat me twice. If I lost weight and dropped down to light heavyweight, my buddy Cannon was in the way.”

“You didn’t want to fight a buddy?”

“Hell, I don’t mind that. Guys compete with their friends all the time. It’s a sport, not a grudge match.”

He sounded disgruntled, making her smile. “Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“I trained at Cannon’s camp. I’d seen him fight plenty of times, but even in training he was slicker than most. I knew I’d only beat him with a lucky punch, and so far, no one’s gotten a lucky punch in on him. You’ll like him.”

“You don’t sound resentful.”

“Of Cannon?” He snorted. “No, ’course not. He’s a great guy. Not just at fighting either. That camp? It’s his gym, a way for fighters to learn new techniques from each other, but he also runs classes for the neighborhood kids. Everyone in Warfield idolizes him because that’s the type of man he is.”

She held silent for a bit, noticing that he again checked the rearview mirror, then the side mirror. Just cautious, or was there a problem? She checked her side mirror but saw nothing amiss, just other cars on the road.

As the light faded from the horizon, streetlamps flickered on. They each removed their sunglasses. The headlights automatically flicked on as Justice took another exit and turned down a busy street.

“Do you miss fighting?”

“Yeah. A lot.”

She heard the longing in his tone and it bothered her. “Why switch to being a bodyguard then? I’d think if you enjoyed it and you were good—even if not the best—it’d be worth it to continue.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m no good at being second best. Too competitive. My last fight was a good win. I was the underdog. Everyone expected me to get my ass handed to me. Instead, I nailed a quick, clean knockout in under thirty seconds. So I figured I’d go out on a high note, you know?”

“Wow.” But because she didn’t know, she asked, “That’s fast, right?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Usually we go three five-minute rounds. Championship fights are five five-minute rounds.” He shifted, popped his neck, then admitted, “Nine times out of ten, he’d have beaten me. But he shot in, I threw a punch and pow, he went down for the count.”

“I’d say there’s luck, and then there’s being ready. Clearly you took advantage of an opportunity. You were prepared and you did what you needed to do, when you needed to do it.”

Grinning, he patted her knee again. “Yeah, that’s how I tell it, too.”

“Do you still train?”

“Sure. Once a gym rat, always a gym rat. But now I can eat burgers when I want.” He patted his flat abdomen. “And drink an occasional beer.”

Absurd for him to pretend he had any fat on his body. From what Fallon could tell, he was muscle layered on muscle. But given it was probably a somewhat new occurrence, she was ridiculously pleased that he’d drunk a beer with her.

“On top of being competitive, I like a challenge. Let me tell you, this gig is real challenging. Hell, every day I learn something new. Another fighter friend, Leese Phelps, was the first to cut out for personal security. He sort of paved the way.” With another cocky grin, Justice added, “I still get to be a badass and have some interesting assignments. As a bonus, I get to carry a gun.”

Startled, she asked, “You’re carrying a gun?”

He gave her a “duh” look. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

“I never thought about it either way.” She looked him over, but didn’t see—

“Want to see for yourself, huh?” He leaned forward a little, lifted his T-shirt and showed her a black automatic in a holster connected to his belt, situated at the small of his back.

It took her a second to find her voice. Justice had just flashed a swath of firm skin and muscle, and the waistband of black boxers riding low on his hips. Temperature rising, Fallon asked in a whisper, “Have you ever shot anyone?”

“Not so far, no.” As he pulled up to a stoplight, he turned to look at her. “But I would if necessary.”

She believed him.

Then he flashed another grin, flexed his arms to make massive muscles pop in his biceps. “But with guns like these, it’s usually not necessary.”

Fallon felt like fanning her face. Good Lord, he looked fine. Needing another switch, she said, “I’m sorry I’m not a more interesting assignment.”

“You fit that ‘challenge’ part, and that keeps it interesting.”

Before she could ask him what he meant, the light changed and he moved his foot off the brake.

“Before you,” he said, “I worked with Mark Stricker.”

Her jaw loosened. “The movie star?”

“Yeah. Let me tell you—that was interesting. Did you know he’s, like, five-two?”

“Really? I thought he was taller.”

“Me, too.”

“In movies, he looks to be at least six feet tall.”

“Yeah, but it’s a trick. They put him on a platform when he’s next to the taller female actors. Crazy, huh?”

“Fascinating.” Curious why he’d been assigned to Stricker, she asked, “Was he in danger?”

“Nah. Mostly I helped him train for a new role as a fighter. But there were also times I had to keep the rabid fans away. I can’t talk about it much. The deets on the film are still hush-hush.”

“Okay, sorry.” When he again checked his mirrors, Fallon huffed a breath. “Is there a problem, Justice?”

“What do you mean?”

“You keep checking behind us like you’re expecting trouble.”

“It’s my job to expect trouble.”

She started to relax...

Until he added, “Especially when we’re being followed.”

CHAPTER FIVE

FALLON LOOKED SO STARTLED, Justice decided to distract her. “Tell me about your job now.”

She twisted to stare out the rear window. “Justice—”

“Fair’s fair. I answered your questions.”

Glaring at him, she asked, “Who’s following us?”

“Don’t know. I’m willing to bet it’s Marcus, though.”

For a few seconds, she just stared at him—then laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” But she looked again. “Can you see his car?”

“No.”

She relaxed back in her seat. “How do you know we’re being followed?”

“I know.” He took another look in the mirror before leaving the road and pulling into a restaurant lot.

“This is it?” she asked, sounding disappointed by the updated, casual, mom-and-pop diner.

“No.” Justice did a U-turn in the lot to face the road, turned off the headlights and waited.

Fallon appeared to be holding her breath, so without taking his gaze off the road, Justice said, “Relax. You’re fine.”

In reply, she wrapped her arms around herself.

Justice wanted to comfort her but he’d already crossed too many lines. If he kept it up, he’d deserve to be canned.

A car drove past. A few trucks. And then he saw the fancy sports car.

Fallon seemed unaware as she stared through the windshield.

Was she afraid of Marcus? If so, that was reason enough for Justice to confront him. For some reason—crazy as it might be—he was itching to pulverize the guy.

After the slick black car sped past, Justice asked, “Does Marcus have a Corvette?”

“What?” Drawn from her thoughts, she shook her head. “No—or at least I don’t think so. He’s more a BMW or Mercedes type of man.”

“I saw the Mercedes. Can he afford two cars? Maybe one for business and one for sport?”

“He could, yes. But, Justice, I’m sure that wasn’t him. It’s not his style to chase after anyone.”

“Maybe.” Justice stewed a minute more before deciding it would be best to get to their destination so Fallon could enjoy herself. He drove out of the lot, saying, “We’ll be there in about five minutes.”

“Rowdy’s?”

“Yeah.” So that he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, he asked, “You hungry? They have some killer burgers there.”

She gave it quick thought and nodded. “Very hungry, in fact. Thanks.”

Luckily Rowdy had opened up a separate lot adjacent to the bar because the place stayed packed, especially on a Saturday night. Justice kept Fallon close as he stepped inside the busy bar.

Avery, Rowdy’s wife who usually worked as the bartender, bustled from table to table. When she spotted him, she got closer and said, “They’re in back at the pool tables.”

“Thanks. I’ll join them in a bit, but we want to grab some food first.”

“There’s a booth that just emptied. Follow me.”

Justice waited until they’d nabbed the seats before doing introductions. “Avery, this is Fallon. Fallon, Avery is married to the owner.”

He let the ladies say their hellos before asking, “How come you’re on the floor tonight?”

“One of our waitresses called in sick. Rowdy’s working the bar and I’m doing my best to keep up here. Some days,” she grumbled, “being popular is a bother.”

Fallon smiled at her. “Is there some way we can help?”

Justice froze. If Avery said yes, how the hell would he keep track of her?

Luckily, Avery laughed, told Justice he had a “winner,” then asked them if they needed to look at the menu.

Sorry that he couldn’t lend her a hand, but relieved that Fallon would remain close, he said, “Loaded burgers, plate of fries and I’ll take a chocolate milk shake. Fallon?”

“Works for me. Make it two shakes.”

Avery’s smile was slow and knowing. “Definitely a keeper. I’ll get that out to you shortly.”

“No rush,” Fallon said.

After Avery left, Justice smiled at Fallon. “That was nice of you. To offer to help, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” She glanced around the bar with a sort of wistful yearning. “In fact, it might be fun.”

Yeah, right. “You ever work as a waitress?”

She twitched her mouth to the side. “Dad would have had a heart attack.” With the tip of her finger, she traced the wood grain in the tabletop. “Going through school, I worked for him part-time as an apprentice. Now my job is decorating the local hotels he owns. Decor gets old quick in the industry. We like to keep things as fresh and updated as possible.”

“The hotels are fancy, aren’t they?”

“Not really. I mean, they’re nice, but not super upscale or anything. I stay busy with it, but I got ahead on everything so right now I have a whole month off.”

Time she’d built in to play. Curious about her, Justice asked, “You like the job?”

“I do. The different locations each have their own character and I get to reflect that in how I decorate them. I do only those in Ohio, Indiana and Northern Kentucky, though Dad has locations all across the country.”

He’d wondered about that. “You don’t like to travel?”

She shook her head and then deliberately tried to divert him. “What about you?”

Justice shrugged. “It’s okay. I haven’t traveled much for pleasure, but fighters go all over, either to compete or to support friends. Brazil, Japan, Canada, South Korea—”

“Wow. I had no idea.” She folded her arms on the tabletop. “That’s so exciting.”

“Not if you’re fighting. Let me tell you, the packing and travel and promo is a hassle. Then you have to adjust to the time zone and sometimes the altitude. It’s not like you get much opportunity to be a tourist.”

“I can’t imagine all that running and prep and then having to perform. But I’m impressed.”

Sheepish, Justice shook his head. “Don’t be. I won in Japan, but not in South Korea or Brazil. Not that I got creamed or anything,” he rushed to assure her. “Got bonus bucks for ‘fight of the night’ in Brazil. It was a real brawl, but I lost two of the three rounds.”

“I would love to see a live fight sometime.”

He was about to tell her it’d be too risky when Cannon spoke beside them. “You’re in luck. Stack Hannigan is fighting next weekend and it’s local. Have Justice bring you.”

While Fallon stared up in awe at Cannon, Justice tried to signal him by slashing a finger across his neck.

Cannon ignored him. “Introduce me, Justice.”

Armie strolled up next to him. “Yeah, introduce us.”

“Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” Justice mumbled. Did they think she was a date? “I was going to bring her to the pool room for introductions after we ate.”

Showing up with the food, Avery bumped Cannon and Armie out of her way with her hip. She set the plates and drinks off her tray, then asked, “Anything else?”

“It smells perfect,” Fallon gushed. “Thank you.”

Armie said to Avery, “You sure you don’t want me to lend a hand?”

“You’re sweet,” Avery said, “but Crissy just showed up. We’re covered.”

As soon as Avery got out of the way, Cannon and Armie muscled their way in. Cannon made Fallon scoot over and Armie would have sat on Justice’s lap if he hadn’t moved quick enough.

Deadpan, Justice asked, “Why don’t you guys join us?”

They ignored his dry tone.

“Think I will,” Armie said, stealing one of his fries. To Fallon he said, “I’m Armie. That’s Cannon.”

She looked...mesmerized, her eyes wide, watchful. “You’re both fighters?”

Armie grinned. “Good guess.”

“Oh, no. You both look as muscular as Justice.”

Cannon grinned now, too. “And you are?”

She poked out a hand. “Fallon Wade.”

While Cannon’s hand completely swallowed hers, Armie said, “Nice, Eugene. She’s a step up.”

With surprise, Fallon turned to Justice. “Eugene?”

Cannon leaned near, saying in a loud stage whisper behind his hand, “That’s his real name.”

Giving Armie a shove that almost put him out of the booth, Justice growled, “You’re both assholes, you know that, right?”

Chuckling, Armie righted himself. “Avery just said I was sweet.”

“She has to be nice to you because you’re a customer.”

“Ah, c’mon, Eugene,” Armie replied. “Don’t be pissy.”

“No one,” Justice stressed to Fallon, “calls me that.”

Armie raised his hand. “Just us A-holes.” He slanted a look at Justice. “I, at least, know how to speak in front of a lady.”

That was almost too hilarious, given Armie’s rep, which wasn’t all that distant yet. “Where are your wives? Rissy and Yvette would keep you in line.”

“Rissy, Vanity and Cherry are visiting Yvette at our place,” Cannon said. “The wives insisted we show up here for Stack’s last weekend before the fight.”

Justice explained to Fallon, “These two are new dads. Cannon has twins, a boy and a girl, and Armie has a daughter. Usually you can’t pry them away from the babies.”

“Look who’s talking!” Cannon pointed at Justice. “This one does the whole baby-talk thing. It’s hilarious.”

“And nauseating,” Armie chimed in. Then he shrugged. “But the babies adore him.”

Justice grinned. “True enough. I’m one of their favorite people.”

“There’s only four months between our kids’ ages.” Cannon smiled with pride. “They’ll grow up close.”

For the next twenty minutes, Justice and Fallon ate while the men told stories.

Like a spectator at a tennis match, Fallon’s head bobbed back and forth as she alternately listened to each man gush affectionately. It still amused Justice that the two of them were so affected by their kids. If one of the babies gurgled, they were on it. Drool didn’t faze them and they changed diapers like a couple of champions, which they were.

Other than during training, or occasionally at Rowdy’s, if you saw one of the men, you saw a baby.

Justice finally interrupted to say, “You get the feeling they’re proud papas?”

Smiling, Fallon nodded. “Very. And I think it’s lovely.”

“So I’m sweet and lovely,” Armie said. “I can’t wait to tell Stretch.”

“My sister will strangle you for calling her that,” Cannon reminded Armie. Then to Fallon, he said, “She’s almost as tall as me.”

“But a lot prettier,” Armie added, his eyebrows bobbing.

Justice noticed that Fallon had eaten at least half of the enormous burger and a good share of fries before she pushed back her plate and patted her mouth with the paper napkin.

“Dessert?” he asked her.

She lifted the shake. “This counts.” Leaning in, she asked, “So, do you think we could see your friend’s fight next weekend?”

Not a good idea. “I don’t know,” he hedged. “It’s going to be crowded.”

One brow lifted, Cannon sat back and watched him.

Armie slanted him a look of curiosity.

“I’ll cover my own ticket,” she promised. “That is, if tickets are still available.”

“Not for any good seats.”

Cannon and Armie waited to pounce; Justice knew that and tried to think of a way to deter them from interfering, but he came up blank. Wasn’t like he could explain that Fallon was only an assignment—and he was already too close.

Finally, Cannon said, “I have tickets. Brand and Miles, friends you can meet in a minute, would be happy to—”

Justice growled, “If she goes, she goes with me.”

Fallon’s face went pink and she cleared her throat. “It’s all ridiculous, but Justice is my bodyguard.”

Groaning, Justice stared up at the ceiling. He could feel the guys eyeballing him, the bastards.

“Why’s it ridiculous?” Armie asked.

“Because there’s no threat against me. It’s just that my parents anticipate a boogeyman around every corner.”

“We were followed,” Justice reminded her.

Cannon said, “You were?”

“Yeah.” And now that he remembered, he realized that might be a good excuse to skip the fight at the arena. But before he could mention it, another voice intruded.

“There you are, you chickenshit bastard.”

Fallon turned with a start, Armie grumbled and Cannon briefly closed his eyes as if aggrieved.

But Justice laughed as he extended his hand over the booth. “Look who crawled aboveground.” He and Tom exchanged a quick, knuckle-breaking hand grip, then Justice did the introductions. “Fallon, this is Tom Nelson, aka Tomahawk.”

Tom gave her a quick once-over. “Tell your boyfriend to quit ducking me.”

Armie said, “He beat you, Hawk,” shortening the man’s nickname. “Soundly, in fact. Bellyaching now is pointless. Move on.”

“It was a lucky punch and you know it,” Tom countered.

“You got caught,” Cannon said in that calm way of his. “That wasn’t luck, but good training.”

“Says the man who trained him.” Without losing his good mood, Tom stared down at Armie. “As to moving on...ain’t happening. Not until I get a rematch.”

Justice ate another fry. “Told you, man, I retired. I’m out of the fight biz.”

“Get back in,” Tom insisted. Then just to provoke him, he added, “If you can work up the nerve.”

* * *

AS FALLON WATCHED, the man pointed at Justice, grinned and sauntered away.

“Fucking doofus,” Armie growled low.

“So much for knowing how to speak in front of a lady,” Justice complained, sparing Fallon a glance.

“It’s okay.” Fallon noticed that Justice didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the intruder as his friends were. “He’s the one you beat early in the fight?”

Lifting his milk shake, Justice nodded. “None other.”

“Tom doesn’t want to accept it,” Cannon explained to Fallon. “He tries to hide it with jokes, but he’s still smarting over getting tuned.”

“He’s convinced he’d beat me if we fought again,” Justice said by way of justification.

Armie gave a shove to Justice’s shoulder, almost making him spit out his shake. “If it ever happened, my money would be on you.”

Scowling, Justice drew off the straw, finishing his drink.

“People match up differently,” Cannon said to Fallon. “A guy who beats everyone else can meet that one guy who gets him every time. Tomahawk’s good, no doubt about it. But against Justice? I agree with Armie. Tom’s not slick enough to duck those massive fists of his.”

Justice gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Guys, really, she’s not a date. You don’t have to try to soften her up for me.”

“He’s so freaking humble, too,” Armie said with a roll of his eyes.

“I can’t beat Cannon.”

“And that’s your measuring stick?” Armie looked ready to shove Justice again. “Hell, man, there’s a reason Cannon’s a champion.”

Wow. Fallon looked at the man next to her again. “Champion?”