Justice Mine: a Base Branch Novel (6 page)

L
aw’s typical analytical skills
, which made him impeccable at his job, deserted him like a clandestine informant when shit got heavy. Relief jumbled with fury as Magdalena recounted the events of the past two days. Emotions shouldn’t come into play. But they flipped him the bird while they fucked with his head.

“Don’t worry about Baine,” he said. “He can handle himself. And I’ll have this squared by the time your dad gets back.”

Her thin brows rose. “Oh? I spent an afternoon searching for the guy’s identity, if this mess is even tied to him, and didn’t find a thing. What makes you so sure you can do better?”

“Determination.”

“Oh?” Her voice rose as she dragged the word out several beats. A wrinkle formed between her brows and she sought to cut him with her gaze. “Don’t insult me and then give me that deadly smile.”

His lips stretched wider, a tiny bit of his ire ebbing. “Deadly, huh?”

“Shut up. I’m tenacious and have more invested in this than you do.”

“Do you now?”

Her hair shook as she nodded.

“Well, we’re not going anywhere tonight,” he said. “And tomorrow, I’m going back to college for a while. Didn’t much like it the first time, but this time I think I will.”

“What are you going to do? You’re a lawyer. Right?” Her head cocked to the side and her eyes widened in challenge. “Are you going to recite ASBO laws or threaten a lawsuit?”

“No lawsuits. I might explain the finer points of law while I beat the ability to harm you from his body. Their bodies,” he amended. Her lips thinned and every hint of mocking fled her expression. Finally, it seemed she understood the seriousness of his conviction.

“I don’t even know who they are or why they targeted me.”

Law held his hand out to Magdalena. “Let’s have it.”

Her gaze flew to the hand he indicated, tucked loosely behind the knitted blanket. The angles of her face drew tight, but she didn’t refuse or whine. She uncovered it and placed her small hand in his. Her palm flattened onto his, cooling his heat with her touch. Like the night before, the contact jolted him enough to lob his ass clear cross the room, and he forced himself to breathe through the charge.

At the knuckle of her ring finger, the delicate digit skewed the uniform lines of the rest. It hooked forty-five degrees left. Law positioned two fingers of his right hand on the underside of hers where a man would—were he lucky enough—place a wedding ring. She drew a breath between her lips. He kept his touch light and caressed his way over her smooth skin to the tip of her close cropped nail.

“It’s not broken.”

“Sure looks broken to me.” Magdalena pursed her lips.

“I am truly astounded at your faith in me, tart.”

She smiled at that, and the warmth it generated was strikingly similar to sun beamed on his face. A bit of the dread leaked out of his body and a hint of another smile curved his own lips.

“Tart?”

“Absolutely.”
Bitter and sweet.

When he didn’t explain, she nodded. “Okay, if it’s not broken why does it look like an L?”

“Dislocated.”

“And that’s so much better.” Her blatant sarcasm stretched his face into a full-blown grin.

He set her hand on her knee and reached for her feet, but she scooted them away.

“They’re just dirty. I can take care of them.”

Lord save him from women. Especially this one. With practiced speed, he snatched both her heels in his palms. “I don’t mind getting dirty.”

Her sweet cheeks flushed bright pink and his flagging dick soared to life.
Brought that one on yourself, idiot.
Law bent low, strangling his cock to get a good look at Magdalena’s scraped and bruised feet.

“Sit tight.” For emphasis, he pinned her with a stern gaze.

When she gave a slight nod Law stood and turned away quickly to retrieve the necessary items to clean her up and hide his tented pants. After riffling through the kitchen he returned to find her still perched on the edge of the couch, her gaze following his every move. Law wasn’t modest, but he should put on a damn shirt. Maybe then her intense study wouldn’t raise goosebumps across his chest as though her soft fingers stroked his skin. He’d been ready to fight with his mattress in hopes of eking out a couple decent hours sleep. A mission doomed to fail at the outset.

“You really don’t have to—"

“Try all you like, but you won’t stop me,” he said, baiting her.

Her cheeks hollowed like she chewed the insides to keep from tearing into him. He winked to push her over the edge. Law wanted her attention on him and not the torment to come. Plus, he got hot when she cussed. Many women were so prim and proper they’d rather bite through their tongue than give a sharp piece of their mind. In the little bit he’d known Magdalena, she’d lashed him up one side, down the other, and made him angry he didn’t have more sides to offer.

“How can someone be so nice and bloody infuriating at the same time?”

“I thought
you
could tell
me
.”

“Humph.” When he kneeled before her she clamped her mouth and eyes closed, but they flew open when he lifted her feet. Warm water and dissolved Epsom salt swirled around the roaster he positioned beneath two petite feet. As he lowered them, cute reddish-pink nails elongated, shrank, and then widened, distorting under the surface. When they settled on the bottom of the pan, his gaze migrated to hers. He read every emotion as it played across her beautiful features. Pain. Resolve. Acceptance. Relaxation. Pleasure. Each pummeled his flight instincts until they were in a pathetic heap.

Magdalena’s shoulders relaxed, but the spark in her eyes remained bright. “My dad’s going to skin you, cut you into bits, and cook you in this broiler for using it on my feet.”

“Then it’ll be our little secret.” He winked.

“I’m not very good at keeping those.” The fire in her returned to full fury. It glistened in the green and grey flecks of her eyes as they smiled.

“Well, I hope I taste good for you then.”

Her blush did stupid things to his head. Both of them.

Escaping his gaze, she looked down at her feet for a moment before returning it. “What makes you the doctor in residence anyway?”

“I have a good bit of experience treating injuries.”

One brow, the same color as the tawny grasses of the African savannah, rose. “All your work with MI6?”

Slick fox.
Law reached for her hand with a wide smile. “All my siblings,” he said easily. If he left her too much time to think, she’d piece things together like an old quilting maid. Slowly and steadily.

Without allowing her time to brace or himself time to think about hurting her, he held the base of her ring finger in his left hand. His right wrapped just below the skewed knuckle and pulled. He guided the bones in line with practiced efficiency. All the while his gaze remained riveted to Magdalena’s.

Her silent tears slew him, and her strength and unflappable grace drew him deeper. “Can you bend it?”

She watched the elegant fingers stretch and retract several times before she smiled at him. “It’s sore, but it doesn’t hurt like fuc… It doesn’t hurt like it did. You’re amazing.”

Law ignored her compliment, too caught up tracing the slopes and lines of her face. Both his hands rose to accompany his gaze. His palms cupped her chin while he padded his thumbs across her cheekbones and under her eyes. Her tears collected on them and he drew his right hand back. When he sucked the moisture from his thumb, tasting the salty evidence of her sadness, Magdalena’s lips parted. Unable to stop himself, Law rubbed his left thumb over her bottom lip, careful not to bump the small cut on her upper one.

Magdalena’s tongue nudged his pad and slicked it from base to tip. Thunder roared in his ears. Virile instincts joined in the chorus, demanding he capture her mouth and make it his own. Before the tiny part of himself still hidden in darkness had a chance to war against the notion, Law plunged his fingers into her soft locks, wrapping them around her nape, and coaxed her forward. He gave her every opportunity to bail, silently hoping she would and equally desperate for her surrender.

She gave herself to him, going lax in his hold. Her gaze flickered to his mouth before returning to his eyes in a half-lidded search of his own. He inhaled her sweat. The heady aroma made his body scream for sex. He tamped down the urge to take her. As he drew nearer a hint of flowers melded with her corporeal scent. Law inclined his head, maneuvering around the cutest pixie nose he’d ever seen, and ushered her the last breadth between them.

Her lips whispered on his, warm and heartbreakingly soft. They gave a hint of the pleasure to come, robbing him of the oxygen in his lungs. His chest constricted against the thrill raging through the roller coaster of his nervous system.

A crack of glass ended their contact. Law snapped his body around to confront the enemy.

M
agdalena had heard
the expression “all hell breaking loose.” She’d even used it before. Incorrectly. Because nothing in her past prepared her for the kind of hell that rained down on them. Without a moment to process the kiss—almost kiss—she’d just shared, a garden brick crashed through the den window. The high pitch of shattering glass accompanied the small shower of shards onto the dark wooden floor. Surprisingly, the rest of the massive pane didn’t give way and allow the intruder entrance.

Law crouched in front of her like a prowling beast, then sprinted for the window. Every cord of sinewy muscle rippled with the effort, making a false fantasy come to life. But she couldn’t really see every muscle, only the ones on the back of his arms, shoulders, and the dimples above his flannel pants. The center of his back, along his spine, stretching outward, was a palate of inked artwork. She caught a glimpse of a woman’s hair flowing wildly across his shoulder blade, but he moved too quickly for her to discern anything else.

A tiny pang pricked her heart, knowing he had a woman’s image tattooed on his body.
Must have been some love to carry her forever on his back.
Magdalena didn’t have time to worry about inky art. A liquor bottle with a flaming tail sailed through the torso-sized hole in the glass while a crash echoed through kitchen. Stunned, unable to move, like she’d been in the corridor in the media building earlier, she watched the flames lick toward the lacquered floor.

Fear exploded in her chest as Law dove for the bottle. He slid amongst the piercing diamonds and caught the vessel in his outstretched arm. Before she could blink, he shot from the floor, leaped around the bulk of the glass, and landed a few feet from the window. He hurled the flaming liquor back through the hole. Outside the window, glass shattered. The night carried a mind-warping shriek through the billowing curtain that chilled her blood.

But she didn’t have time to dwell on the damage the burning alcohol inflicted on the instigator outside. Davis, the man who’d attacked her earlier, rounded the archway at the kitchen. Magdalena’s scream melded with the other shrill pitch.

“That’s right, bitch. Scream. You’re gonna scream until you can’t scream any more, then when I’m done with you, Mike and Aaron are gonna have their turn,” Davis said. Eyes wide, he looked hopped up on something and ready to carry out his mission.

Magdalena clamped down on her own dread as concern for herself morphed at lightning speed into terror for Law. She’d dragged him into this, whatever it was, and now he was going to pay the price.

As her gaze sought him, Law advanced from the window toward the center of the room. A grim scowl set his face as he turned toward the intruder. “Tonight you’ll learn your place in this world,” he said in a quiet, cold voice. “Mike or Aaron, whoever’s on fire in the yard, already learned his. So, why don’t you go ahead and call in your man left standing. You’re going to need him.”

Disbelief clogged Magdalena’s throat, making it impossible for her to voice the thoughts in her head. They all jumbled there anyway, running into one another, wrestling for priority.

Davis stepped toward the edge of the stairs and his harsh gaze flew toward the broken window. In the distance, agonizing screams carried on the wind. When he turned back to Law, his fists curled into meaty balls. Law placed himself between her and the madman, giving her his back, but she couldn’t be bothered with the chic embedded in his skin. All her attention riveted on the frames of the two men.

As size went, Davis had Law in bulk, with his boulder-like muscles bulging the fabric of his shirt. Yet, the way Law ran his mouth, he didn’t seem to care. He stood tall, wide and muscled in his own right, but his hugged closer to his body. The way she’d seen him move, they seemed crafted for work, not show. Still, she didn’t want to find out which of the two would come out on top.

She stood and water sloshed around her ankles. The rawness of her larynx stung, but she spoke through the pain. “Please, Davis, we can talk this out. I don’t know what I did to wrong you, but I’m willing to make it right.”

The bulky man’s grimace eased and he nodded. “Talk? Sure we can.”

The carved ridges in Law’s shoulders grew impossibly deeper, but he didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. Magdalena hoped he’d stay silent. She could diffuse the situation, if he didn't get all macho on her.

“Thank you,” she nodded. “Just don't hurt my friend. He has nothing to do with this.”

Davis’ forehead crinkled. “Looks pretty invested from where I’m standin’. Just come over here, so he doesn’t get hurt.”

Before she could raise a foot over the high metal edge, Law’s voice scraped its way through the tension-thick air and into her ear. “Magdalena. Do. Not. Move.” The simple demand given in such a brutal tone knocked her senses for a loop. Never one for orders, her body and mind bent to his will. Something in that grave timbre told her, of the two men about to bust heads, Law would come away the victor.

Make that three.

A bloke she’d never seen rounded the corner with a nasty growl. As wide as Davis’ carriage was, this guy’s nearly doubled his, but got cut short in the legs assembly. “She’s fuckin’ dead,” he yelled. “You,” he roared. His sausage-like finger stabbed the air between him and Law. “You killed Aaron. Burned my brother bloody alive.” The guy’s voice cracked with emotion and he screamed. “Both of you are corpses. Standing corpses.”

Dread and anxiety grabbed Magdalena’s intestines with both hands and played double-dutch. If she could move, she’d fall on the floor in a worthless heap. As luck would have it, she stood paralyzed.

Having digested the news, tears streaked Davis’ stern face. He let loose a battle cry and ran for Law, as she’d done to the guy at the media building’s entrance earlier. Presumably, that had been the dead guy, Aaron. His back hunched and his battering ram shoulder tucked forward.

Law stayed perfectly still until Davis got nearly atop him then he crouched low. His arms wrapped around Davis’ shins and he stood, tossing the giant over his shoulder. Davis landed head first on the floor. The defending sound of cracking bone reverberated in the room. The man’s body collapsed like jam onto the wood.

Magdalena’s stomach vibrated and rocked. She heaved as the scene replayed itself over and again in her mind. Her hand slapped over her mouth, but there was nothing for her gut to expel. That didn’t stop it from trying. She might have stayed there all night in a standing hunch if Mike didn’t pull a big-ass blade from his back. Her stomached settled out of necessity, but her hand did not move. Instead it stifled her ghastly moan.

Law stood impassive at all the shit going on around them. His posture appeared as relaxed as if he were going to play a few rounds of tennis with a friend, but his gaze never veered from Mike as the man moved down the steps. Mike’s gaze darted from Davis to her and back to Law in a whirly-bird of confusion.

Mike stepped in, raking the serrated metal across the air. Law pivoted, moving just out of reach of the deathblow, and countered with a fist to the bloke’s fat face. The bulldog looking man stumbled a couple of steps, but shook off the hit with a roll of his shoulders. He circled Law right then left, but her champion outmaneuvered Mike, not allowing him past mid-point, closer to her.

She watched, the air choking in her lungs, as Mike sliced at Law’s middle, missing by a few inches, then arching high to strike at his face. When she expected him to step back he moved in, plastering his body to Mike’s. Law’s left arm coiled around Mike’s knife hand and clinched it under his arm. Mike slashed the knife wildly, catching Law’s shoulder. Crimson pearled from his tanned skin and coursed down his tricep. Before the droplet of blood reached his elbow, a familiar crack of bone wrought the air and Mike hit the floor in a heap, the knife preceding his descent by a blink.

Law collapsed on his knees next to the body, his hand searching Mike’s neck. “Dammit,” he ground. His fists clenched and pressed against the ground on either side of his thighs.

Her broken sob turned his head and he pinned her with a gaze she couldn’t interpret. His eyes pleaded. His jaw worked. “Magdalena,” he said in a firm whisper.

Hand still over her mouth, she nodded.

“You’re okay. Use my phone there on the coffee table and call the Met. Tell them there’s been a break-in and that three men are dead.”

As he talked, he searched Mike’s pockets. She had no idea what he sought and didn’t want to know. By the time she dragged her gaze away from him, he’d moved on to Davis’ corpse. She’d seen dead bodies before, but she’d never seen someone’s life leave their body.

Mags sat on the sofa in a semi-controlled collapse, buckling knees and gravity doing most of the work. When she reached for his phone her hand jittered like a druggie’s on their second day of rehab. The device fell into her lap. Shaky as her hands were, she’d expected it to land on the floor. Magdalena balled her hands into fists to steady them before she pressed the screen to life.

Her fingers hung over the numbers, but Law stopped her. “Don’t make that call. We have to go, now.”