Chuckling, Armie righted himself. “Avery just said I was sweet.”
“She has to be nice to you because you’re a customer.”
“Ah, c’mon, Eugene,” Armie replied. “Don’t be pissy.”
“No one,” Justice stressed to Fallon, “calls me that.”
Armie raised his hand. “Just us A-holes.” He slanted a look at Justice. “I, at least, know how to speak in front of a lady.”
That was almost too hilarious, given Armie’s rep, which wasn’t all that distant yet. “Where are your wives? Rissy and Yvette would keep you in line.”
“Rissy, Vanity and Cherry are visiting Yvette at our place,” Cannon said. “The wives insisted we show up here for Stack’s last weekend before the fight.”
Justice explained to Fallon, “These two are new dads. Cannon has twins, a boy and a girl, and Armie has a daughter. Usually you can’t pry them away from the babies.”
“Look who’s talking!” Cannon pointed at Justice. “This one does the whole baby-talk thing. It’s hilarious.”
“And nauseating,” Armie chimed in. Then he shrugged. “But the babies adore him.”
Justice grinned. “True enough. I’m one of their favorite people.”
“There’s only four months between our kids’ ages.” Cannon smiled with pride. “They’ll grow up close.”
For the next twenty minutes, Justice and Fallon ate while the men told stories.
Like a spectator at a tennis match, Fallon’s head bobbed back and forth as she alternately listened to each man gush affectionately. It still amused Justice that the two of them were so affected by their kids. If one of the babies gurgled, they were on it. Drool didn’t faze them and they changed diapers like a couple of champions, which they were.
Other than during training, or occasionally at Rowdy’s, if you saw one of the men, you saw a baby.
Justice finally interrupted to say, “You get the feeling they’re proud papas?”
Smiling, Fallon nodded. “Very. And I think it’s lovely.”
“So I’m sweet and lovely,” Armie said. “I can’t wait to tell Stretch.”
“My sister will strangle you for calling her that,” Cannon reminded Armie. Then to Fallon, he said, “She’s almost as tall as me.”
“But a lot prettier,” Armie added, his eyebrows bobbing.
Justice noticed that Fallon had eaten at least half of the enormous burger and a good share of fries before she pushed back her plate and patted her mouth with the paper napkin.
“Dessert?” he asked her.
She lifted the shake. “This counts.” Leaning in, she asked, “So, do you think we could see your friend’s fight next weekend?”
Not a good idea. “I don’t know,” he hedged. “It’s going to be crowded.”
One brow lifted, Cannon sat back and watched him.
Armie slanted him a look of curiosity.
“I’ll cover my own ticket,” she promised. “That is, if tickets are still available.”
“Not for any good seats.”
Cannon and Armie waited to pounce; Justice knew that and tried to think of a way to deter them from interfering, but he came up blank. Wasn’t like he could explain that Fallon was only an assignment—and he was already too close.
Finally, Cannon said, “I have tickets. Brand and Miles, friends you can meet in a minute, would be happy to—”
Justice growled, “If she goes, she goes with me.”
Fallon’s face went pink and she cleared her throat. “It’s all ridiculous, but Justice is my bodyguard.”
Groaning, Justice stared up at the ceiling. He could feel the guys eyeballing him, the bastards.
“Why’s it ridiculous?” Armie asked.
“Because there’s no threat against me. It’s just that my parents anticipate a boogeyman around every corner.”
“We were followed,” Justice reminded her.
Cannon said, “You were?”
“Yeah.” And now that he remembered, he realized that might be a good excuse to skip the fight at the arena. But before he could mention it, another voice intruded.
“There you are, you chickenshit bastard.”
Fallon turned with a start, Armie grumbled and Cannon briefly closed his eyes as if aggrieved.
But Justice laughed as he extended his hand over the booth. “Look who crawled aboveground.” He and Tom exchanged a quick, knuckle-breaking hand grip, then Justice did the introductions. “Fallon, this is Tom Nelson, aka Tomahawk.”
Tom gave her a quick once-over. “Tell your boyfriend to quit ducking me.”
Armie said, “He beat you, Hawk,” shortening the man’s nickname. “Soundly, in fact. Bellyaching now is pointless. Move on.”
“It was a lucky punch and you know it,” Tom countered.
“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,”
