Broken Justice (Justice Brothers) Page 3

  In the blink of an eye, his elusive Ponytail slid through a fence around one of the abandoned buildings and headed for the mission center tucked at the end of the dirty alley. Cam was suddenly assailed with a wave of anger followed in short order by a sense of crushing familiarity, nodding his head fractionally as he processed the facts before him. She was relying on the mission for shelter, trying to survive, and most likely hanging by a thread. All were conditions he knew too well. His gut wrenched as he pushed the memories flying into his brain back into the cold, dark corner of his mind.

  Distaste for the person he blamed for having put him in desperate straits made his mouth burn. The woman who had given him life was a selfish waste of humanity. He never referred to Lorraine as his mother because she had been far, far from being a parent. A common prostitute with an off and on drug dependence, the woman had sold her body to satisfy her needs, leaving him to fend for scraps and cast-offs to survive.

  He’d never known a time as a child when hunger and uncertainty wasn’t a part of his everyday life. Lorraine collapsed and died of a drug overdose right in front of him when he’d been just a boy. After that he’d found himself deep in the social services system, where the hunger and uncertainty never let up. His so-called mother had done nothing to protect or nurture him and the only charitable thing he could eke out for her was the simple fact that she had given him life.

  He wondered who had let the Ponytail down because ending up in a filthy alley next to a run-down mission at her young age wasn’t a situation that happened without help, usually in the form of an authority figure or adult having dropped the ball somewhere along the line. Fuck. He was sucked in now.

  Suddenly, Cam caught glimpses of two burly individuals appearing in the alleyway. Seconds later a scuffle of some sort broke out. Gazing toward the commotion he saw a flash of light hair followed by a small shout of alarm. Next thing he knew, his long legs were pounding down the alley a heartbeat later as he shouted at what appeared to be two older teens while they struggled with the Ponytail for the mangled bag she carried.

  “I suggest you run for the hills, fellas!” he barked in a booming voice that threatened serious retribution for anyone not heeding what he said as he landed in the middle of a street fracas gotten out-of-hand. Apparently, she wasn’t giving the backpack up without a fight.

  “Mind your own fucking business old man,” the biggest of the teens hollered a split second before Cam’s fist connected with his face. Cam knew he could easily have killed the little fucker with no effort but he held back on the punch and tried not to do any more than just scare the kid off. The frightened accomplice forgot all about the Ponytail as he dragged his stumbling friend to safety.

  Satisfied her assailants had been effectively warned off, Cam turned his attention to the woman jumping up from where she’d been pushed, only to find her grabbing that blasted backpack like it was a lifeline and hauling ass away from him as fast as her shaking limbs could move.

  Growling impatiently, Cam bit out, “Hold on there, lady! Are you alright?” She never even looked at him as she kept putting distance between them. Moving into action Cam leapt forward, grabbing her arm to stop the retreat, repeating again only this time in a menacing tone, “I asked if you were alright.”

  Pretty much the last thing he expected right then was a cry of pain when his fingers wrapped forcefully around her forearm to stop the attempted escape. Glancing where his hand had grabbed hold, he saw blood seeping through the sweatshirt sleeve.

  “Take your hands off me,” she screamed in his face as surprise and hesitation loosened his grip. “Let me go.”

  She appeared two seconds away from being hysterical, not that he could blame her. She’d been mugged in an alley, gotten injured somehow, and even though he was in fact rescuing her, from a victim’s standpoint she must be terrified by his less than friendly demeanor and dark, menacing appearance.

  Not having much experience when it came to being reassuring or amicably friendly in any way, Cam was out-of-his-league on this one. That was what years in the military and solitude did to a man. He probably should have gentled his demeanor but he was in uncharted territory and feeling a tad out of sorts so he resorted to tried and true tactics and went with the He-Man approach.

  “Settle down, lady,” he snarled, pulling her closer to inspect her injured arm. Her gasp of pain barely found its way into his conscious mind, but the way all the color leeched from her face did. Unfortunately, when he yanked her she had been forced into his personal space by the fact that she weighed next to nothing. The terror on her face as she collided with his hard-muscled physique surprised him.

  When shit happened, it usually happened quickly. The whispered anguish in her husky voice pleading with him, “Please don’t hurt me,” echoed in his brain as she collapsed in a dead faint. Luckily, his swift reflexes stopped her from hitting the pavement.

  This was the first time he’d gotten a really good look at her up close. She looked awfully young, with flawless skin and fair coloring. She came naturally by what many celebrity women paid surgeons thousands for, a pair of plump lips that looked bee-stung and about as delectable as a woman’s mouth could be. Even out cold, her chin angled in a way that dared the world to mess with her. It was the smattering of light brown freckles across the bridge of her perfect nose, however, that melted his brain into his socks. With her hair swept back into that tight ponytail, she looked more kid than woman, a thought that made him uncomfortable.

  A frozen spot in his soul suddenly heated up, making Cam all too aware of how unfamiliar he was with anything that resembled actual feelings. A chance encounter with a young ponytail was throwing his carefully detached demeanor into the shredder. Deciding that he was simply moved by her obvious struggles after what he’d experienced in his own life, he tried to bring his thoughts back into focus. This was not the time to let a pair of pouty lips distract him. Those lips and the freckles, however, had the power to stop his thoughts dead in their tracks.

  Some of her coloring was returning, suggesting that she’d be coming around soon so Cam quickly inspected the bloody forearm before she came to her senses. He wasn’t sure if the slight gash he found was the work of a blade or an accident but it didn’t matter. His first aid kit and battlefield training could handle the injury but he wasn’t so sure he had anything that would solve the problem presented by having gotten involved in her life.

  She was seconds away from regaining consciousness. When her eyes fluttered open, it took a handful of seconds for her head to clear but even that didn’t stop the protective instincts that he appreciated all too well. With the grace of a cat, she leapt from the ground, grabbed the worn straps of her backpack, and made a supersonic dash away from him. Unfortunately for her, he was prepared for such a move, and being a great deal faster than her, effectively blocked her hasty retreat with his physical presence.

  Stopping dead in her tracks Ponytail eyed him warily sneering, “Go away.” Cam was partially successful at trying not to enjoy the sound of her voice but lost out on projecting an air of disinterest when she fixed a pair of bright, baby blue eyes on him. Having never seen eyes that color before, he was fascinated by the long, fringed eyelashes blinking at him. He knew that he was scaring her with his presence, but all he could wrap his mind around at that moment was how stunning her eyes were.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Cam murmured, removing the ball cap that shadowed his face. He watched her eyes dart, seeking a secondary route of escape. The last thing he wanted at that moment was for her to disappear, a thought as uncomfortable as it was shocking since he never gave two seconds of emotional thought to anyone or anything.

  Going for clinical and straightforward he nodded toward the arm in the bloodstained sweatshirt. “I’m guessing one of those idiots had a weapon because there’s a slice in the hoodie and you’ve gotten quite a gash. I’ve got a well-stocked first aid kit in my truck a few blocks from here. Let me help you out. You’re safe with me.
” He didn’t analyze why he added those last words but something of her alarm and panic had made him want to set her fearful mind at ease.

  “Please,” he added, indicating with his outstretched hand that she should follow him as he led her away from the dark alley.

  It took an eternity until she nodded her consent, while continuing to eye him cautiously. Cam was impressed by the Ponytail’s control in such a difficult predicament. Down but not out, he mused. Interesting.

  It didn’t take long to get her back to where his truck was parked. Convincing her to go with him to the motor court so he could attend to her injury took a bit longer. She said not a word when he promised to help her with no strings attached although she appeared to wobble a bit. Cam remembered what it was like to be cautious and suspicious about offered acts of kindness.

  Once at his motel room, she sat warily at a table by the window while Cam gathered his first aid kit. That she never relaxed her grip on that old bag she carried told him, while she was going to accept his offer of his assistance, she also had one foot firmly out the door at the same time. Clearly trust was an issue, something he understood all too well.

  Keeping her bag stuffed under one arm, she pushed back the bloody sleeve on the hoodie to inspect the injury. The heavy sigh that followed told Cam she was surprised and probably a bit frustrated that there was one more thing for her to deal with. Turning those baby blues back on him, she kept silent when he moved to the table and began setting first aid supplies out for use.

  Cam was struck again by how young she looked and kicked himself for being his usual gruff self. She’d been through an ordeal and he should at least try to be civil and unthreatening. Unfortunately, a headache bumping around the corners of his brain and a deep achiness overtaking every inch of his body robbed him of the ability to feign friendliness. Being the loner he was, it took effort on his part to go through the motions expected in polite society of civilized people. Right now, he was feeling less than civilized.

  Aware that her watchful eyes didn’t miss a thing and deeply conscious of her wariness, he cleared his throat and tried for polite. “By the way, my name is Cameron.” Jesus, was he actually waiting with baited breath for her to answer with that deliciously feminine voice he’d heard earlier?

  Instead of offering her name in return, she calmly said, “You chased those guys away in the alley.” The sound of her voice reached inside Cam’s empty heart and took up residence. Unsettled by his reaction, he nodded but didn’t say anything else as he held up a tube of antibiotic ointment to indicate what he was about to do. Putting a folded towel down on the table, he jerked his head as direction for her to lay her injured arm on it. When she cautiously complied, he grabbed a bottle of water and poured some of the liquid on the bloodied gash. Noting how the Ponytail tried to silence a gasp of pain as her hand suddenly fisted, he wanted to reassure her but kept on with the task at hand against a backdrop of silence.

  Upon closer inspection, he realized the gash was pretty deep but knew better than suggest she seek emergency room care. He was intimately familiar with the wall of denial he knew would be thrown up at the suggestion. People in her circumstances did everything they could to stay away from even the most basic of social services, usually out of an abundance of caution born of previous experience. He’d have to try suturing it himself to stem the bleeding and avoid infection.

  He’d stitched himself up plenty over the years. Another one of those battlefield skills learned through expedience. Stitching up this younger-than-he-was-comfortable-admitting girl was not something he relished. Especially not with the bone weary ache that was moving in waves through his body. He completely ignored the stirring in his groin and a growing heat that told him he was sporting a swift hard-on.

  Her face fixed with an anxious frown when she realized the wound was more than just a simple cut. Shoulders tense, she sighed and bit her lip. “Just wrap it up. I’ll be fine.” Though she tried for a determined air of invincibility, he caught the slight waver in her voice that offered a glimpse of the vulnerability she tried to disguise.

  Jesus, but she was stubborn. “Wrapping isn’t going to do it. You’re bleeding and a stitch or two will be necessary to close the wound. I’ve done this before,” he added while pulling down the collar of his shirt to show her an old scar. “It’s going to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch but luckily I have some topical cream that can numb the area first.”

  Raised eyebrows and a hastily spoken, “You up for this?” hung in the air for only a second before she shrugged and nodded for him to continue.

  Twenty minutes later, Cam was relieved to be finishing the task at hand as he wrapped a length of bandage over the two stitches needed to close the nasty wound. She hadn’t so much as moaned when he pierced her skin with the surgical needle, although she’d gone rigid and turned white as a sheet. He’d seen bigger and tougher men in the midst of battle all but faint over similar experiences and felt a surge of admiration for the way she handled herself. She may be young but the Ponytail was no piece of fluff.

  She sat quietly, rolling the bloodied sleeve over her bandaged arm, while Cam put the medical supplies away and washed his hands. He noted her color beginning to return and was glad she hadn’t tried yet again to bolt for the door. Not entirely sure why, some reflex had him reaching for one of his old sweatshirts before tossing it her way. “That hoodie is toast. There’s no way to get all the blood out without leaving a huge stain, and besides, the slash left a tear in the sleeve.” As he said the words Cam remembered the sight of her standing at the washroom sink in the diner as she tried to rinse her panties of bloody stains that had nothing to do with being injured.

  “You can put that on in there,” he suggested with the tilt of his head toward the tiny bathroom that he knew was littered with the towels he’d tossed over the shower rod and a pile of discarded jeans and t-shirts left on the floor. She watched him silently with a cautious wariness that tugged at places in his emotions he didn’t want to think about. She hesitated and then hesitated some more.

  “Look, I can see that you don’t exactly trust me and I understand. But you are safe here, for real. It would help a lot if you told me your name so we can talk to each other in more than nods and grunts.”

  Her blue eyes instantly shuttered and she wavered, as if deciding whether to give him her real name. “Ummm, well,” she finally answered with a great deal of lip-biting and fidgeting. “My name is Lacey.”

  Satisfaction mixed with a high-powered jolt of attraction moved through him at her answer. She wasn’t sure if he was a threat or not, but apparently she was willing to communicate, albeit on a need to know basis.

  “Well Lacey, you’ve had quite the day and my hat is off to you for fending off those two thugs in the alley. I’ll just slide out for a bit and grab some coffee at the snack bar to give you some privacy. Can I get you anything?” he added while she vehemently shook her head in the negative.

  “Use of the bathroom is enough for me, thanks,” she mumbled while gathering her bag and his well-worn sweatshirt.

  Nodding, he told her, “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes. Feel free to use whatever you find in the bathroom.” And with that he eased himself out of the motel room heading for the snack bar across the driveway that offered an unimpeded view of the room in case she decided to try and scurry away once she thought his attention was diverted. For whatever reason, that thought did not sit well with Cam. As he stomped across the asphalt in search of hot coffee, he tried coming to grips with the unfamiliar, protective impulse the freckle-faced Ponytail had lit up inside him.

  She also inspired a warm tightening in his groin that made him feel like a pig when he considered that she’d done nothing more than try to keep space and silence between them. What the hell was wrong with him that all he could think about once he’d heard her soft, feminine voice was how she would sound surrendering to a mind-blowing orgasm? An orgasm he wanted to wring out of her.

  By the time he had d
owned a mug of black coffee liberally sprinkled with an abundance of sugar, Cam was juggling two realities. First, that he was undoubtedly getting sick as a dog. The uptick in his body temperature was letting him know a fever was on its way, and second, that his curiosity about and uncharacteristic desire to help the Ponytail was messing with his emotions. He accounted for the tightening in his chest at the mere thought of her pouty lips and bright baby blues to the onset of a fever. What the hell else could it possibly be?

  Grabbing a couple of sad looking sandwiches, a container of hot tea for her, and another steaming coffee for him, Cam pocketed a couple of granola bars at the last second. He nodded at the attendant in the motel snack bar and headed back to his room.

  The minute he stepped inside his senses were assailed with the scent of soap and something else decidedly female wafting from the confines of the bathroom. Noting that the door was still firmly shut and probably locked, he set the food and beverages on the rickety table and then took a moment to check the text messages on his phone. Drae was letting him know he’d be off the radar for a few days while Alex texted twice about a technical glitch he was working on with an admonishment not to bother him unless it was an emergency.

  Typical Alex, he thought. Nothing got through the man’s defensive shields except the machines and technology that made up his world. Cam shouldn’t judge since the Justice men were each damaged in their own way. Drae, the martial arts expert and unabashed playboy, dealt with his inner demons by womanizing his way across every continent on the planet. Alex was all but unreachable as he immersed himself in the cold and impersonal world of cyberspace and artificial intelligence. Cam rounded out their triad of emotional dysfunction with a dark, brooding and silent approach to life that didn’t allow for anything that even remotely approached real emotion.