Hard Justice

“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?”