Hard Justice. Lori Foster
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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.”
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