Lori Foster - Hard Justice

“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.