Shattered Justice (17 page)

He watched the battle on the boy’s face. He didn’t want to give in, to say anything. But Jayce just couldn’t hold back. “No.”

Ooo. A word. Progress. “No?”

Definitely a snort this time. The kid dropped into a chair opposite Dan, draping a leg over one arm. He didn’t so much sit on the furniture as subdue it. “Don’t be stupid, man. Moms are moms. You’re never too old to do what your mom says.”

Not the reply Dan expected, though he didn’t let that show on his face. “Got that right. Or your grandmother.”

From Jayce’s reaction, Dan guessed the kid was trying to decide if Dan was making fun of him. Finally Jayce gave a little lift of his chin. “So, why’d your mom tell you to come here?”

Dan opened his mouth to answer, but Jayce cut him off. “No, wait, let me guess.” The sneer was back, torquing his lips into a less-than-attractive shape. “So you could save the rotten kids no one else wants?”

The sarcasm was thick, but Dan wasn’t fooled. Something else was there, too. Something he was sure Jayce Dalton would do everything he could to hide, if he even knew it was there.

Fear.

Dan
felt
it emanating from the boy—like some trapped animal digging its way through the kid’s protective shell.

“No, my mom knew saving people wasn’t my job.” Jayce’s brows lifted at that, but Dan didn’t give him the chance to comment. “She just thought it was a good thing to do. Helping others. Wherever I could, however I could.”

Another snort. Dan was starting to miss the silence. “And you’re just now starting? That’s sad, man.”

Dan went still. The kid’s tone … the little twitch of his lips …

If he didn’t know better, he’d think Jayce was teasing him. “Actually, I’ve been doing it since I was about your age.”

His gaze flipped to the ceiling. “Oh, man. Give me a break. Am I supposed to go all warm and tingly?” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “Bonding moment. How touching.”

Okay, then. Welcome back, sarcasm. Dan kept his reaction casual. “It’s the truth. Not believing it doesn’t change anything. It’s still the truth.”

Jayce chewed the side of his lip then nodded. “Truth is truth. Whether you believe it or not. Okay, so score one for the lawman. You’re not as dumb as you look.”

“Gee,” Dan tried not to sound as underwhelmed as he felt, “thanks.”

“So how come you’re not already all connected with some other kid?”

Dan shifted in his chair. Did this kid ever ask easy questions? “I … took a break.”

Jayce smirked. “Oh, I see. Got tired of givin’? What’d your mom say about that?”

Dan wanted to throw something at the boy, but the chair was too big and there weren’t any rocks at hand. So he settled for the truth. “She didn’t say anything. She’s dead. Died almost five years ago. And I took a break because my wife died two years ago.”

Jayce held Dan’s gaze then a small exhalation escaped him. “Man. That stinks.”

Funny. People said all kinds of things when they heard about Sarah. Too often their comments sounded almost practiced for effect and eloquence. Mini sermons to help him accept the burdens God had given him. He’d wanted to clamp a hand over those yapping mouths, just to stop their careless words from slicing and dicing his already shredded heart.

And yet here was this belligerent kid, someone Dan barely knew, and with those three words he gave Dan what all the
mini sermons never could. Understanding. And comfort.

“Yes, it does.”

A crease drew Jayce’s brows together, and his hawklike gaze fixed on Dan. “So … your mom, she didn’t really tell you to come
here
, then.”

Sharp kid. Shelby had warned Dan. “Nope. Miss Wilson told me that.”

Dan almost fell out of his chair when Jayce grinned. “Give it up, then. I mean, you might try to argue with your mom, but Miss Wilson?”

Dan grinned in return. “I hear you.
She’s
scary.”

“Dude. That’s one woman you do
not
mess with.” Jayce pushed out of his chair and ambled toward the outside door. He paused, hand on the doorknob, glancing back over his shoulder at Dan. “So we gonna shoot some hoops, or you just gonna sit there?”

Dan hopped up and went to join Jayce. He put a hand on the kid’s shoulder, then pulled it back when Jayce jerked away like he’d been burned. His hand in the air, Dan took in the red seeping into Jayce’s lean cheeks. “Sorry.”

The boy rolled his shoulders. “I just don’t like being touched, okay?”

“No sweat. And no touching. I got it. So, hoops?”

“Hoops.”

Dan followed Jayce outside. “Just be prepared to go down in flames.”

“In your dreams, old man.”

“Old? Look, you infant, nobody calls Dan Justice
old
. Not nobody, not no how.”

Jayce just emitted yet another snort and jogged toward the basketballs. That was okay; Dan didn’t mind. Not even a little. Because when Jayce called him
old
, he’d done so with humor—and a touch of something else. Something Dan was pretty sure this kid didn’t give away very often.

Respect.

Anger.

Hot rage tipped with fury.

Cold hatred wrapped in wrath.

It consumed Marlin Murphy, making him shake, as he sat there watching Jayce Dalton and that cop.

Shooting baskets. Laughing. Talking. Jayce smiling at that cop like he was something special.

Pain from his gritted teeth radiated up Marlin’s jaws. Into his temples. But the clenching didn’t ease. Not one bit during the hour and a half he sat there, across the street from the basketball court.

Watching.

Just when Marlin thought he would erupt, the crud cop tossed the ball to Jayce, then went back inside. Marlin wanted to surge across the street. Grab the punk kid by the front of his sweaty shirt. Bury his fist in the smile Jayce still wore.

Ask him just what the heck he thought he was doing.

Instead, he forced himself to stillness. Trembling from the rage flowing through him. Then finally, he saw what he’d been waiting for. Mr. Law and Order walking out of the center, getting in his big, fancy SUV, and driving away.

In seconds, Marlin was up. On his feet. Across the street.

Jayce was just leaning over to pick up a basketball when Marlin slammed into him from behind. Sent him flying, face-first, into the brick wall of the building.

“Hey—!” But Jayce’s yelp was cut off.

The sound of flesh and bone meeting with concrete was music to Marlin’s ears. He buried his fingers in Jayce’s shirt and jerked him to his feet. Marlin noted the blood running from the punk’s damaged nose with a slow twist of his mouth.

“Hey, Jayce, ol’ pal.” His anger snarled free. “Have a nice time with the man?”

Jayce’s hands planted against Marlin’s chest. “Are you
nuts
?”

Marlin shoved his face close to Jayce’s. “
I’m
not the one making nice with a cop, dirtbag.”

Jayce pushed against Marlin’s chest, twisting and jerking free. Marlin let him go, knowing he wouldn’t get far. The kid might not be as big as Marlin, but he was strong and wiry. Aspects that made him a definite asset to Marlin.

No way some badge from the city was going to waltz in here and take those assets away. Not now. Not when he was so close to achieving everything he’d been working toward.

Jayce wiped his sleeve across his bleeding nose. “I just shot hoops with him, man!”

“For an hour and a half.”

Something flickered in Jayce’s eyes, and though Marlin maintained his scowl, he smiled inside.
Yeah, punk. That’s right. I know what you’re doing. All the time
. With that message delivered and received, Marlin relaxed a fraction, pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“And you didn’t just shoot hoops. You were talking.” He tapped a cigarette free. Slipped it between his lips. “What were you talking about, Jayce?” He lit the end, drew in the heat, then flicked the match away. Arching a brow, he pinned the silent boy in front of him with a lazy glare. “Or should I say
who
?”

Jayce crossed his arms over his chest. “Get over yourself, man. You think every conversation with a cop is about you?”

Marlin almost smiled at that. “You know, Jayce, you got guts. Fighting back when you’re cornered, man. I like that.” He inclined his head. “Right place and time, that’ll work for you.”

One massive hand shot out, grabbing Jayce by the front of his damp, bloodied shirt, and slammed him back against the wall.

“Wrong place and time?” He drew in on the cigarette, took it from his lips with his free hand, then held it next to Jayce’s face. “Best-case scenario, it’ll get you hurt. Worst case …” He let the heated tip just touch Jayce’s face. “It’ll get you
dead
.” He bellowed the last word in the kid’s face.

“Go ahead!”

Marlin had to hand it to the kid. He didn’t even flinch when the cigarette connected.

Defiance glowed in Jayce’s eyes. Hatred oozed from his voice. “Go on.
Do
it.”

Marlin considered it. Considered cracking the kid’s head against the wall, smashing it like last year’s Halloween pumpkins.

Then he let go and stepped back.

Jayce’s low, sneering chuckle was like shards of glass across his skin. “You need me, Marlin. You know it, and I know it. You can talk all you want, but you won’t kill me.”

“No.” Marlin spit the word out, tossing his cigarette to the ground and smashing it with his booted toe. He turned, slow and easy. “But there are people I
don’t
need.”

Good. Alarm. That was more like it. Let’s fan the flame a bit … “Your sweet little grandmother, for one.” A step forward.

Jayce didn’t budge, but his jaw tensed. “You wouldn’t.”

Marlin’s laughter escaped. “You know better.” His gaze drifted to the building behind Jayce, traveled up to the window above them. The one belonging to an office.

Her
office.

The lovely, oh-so-caring Shelby Wilson.

“And your do-gooder friend, for another.” His smile turned cold. Suggestive. “Of course, killing the delicious Miss Wilson isn’t the best option …”

Jayce’s hands drew into fists, and this time he took a step forward. “Shut
up
!”

Heat surged through Marlin. That did it. Got to the kid. Broke that eternal calm he wore like some kind of medal. Anticipation uncoiled, rose like smoke from a fire.
Come on … come on …
“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of killing her. Not for a while—”

“You won’t
touch
her!”

Oh, yeah. It was comin’. Marlin’s pulse raced. His breathing
sped up. Man, not even crank had a high like this. Laughter rasped up his throat then out into the charged air. “Oh, I’d do more than
touch
.”

Jayce launched at Marlin like a rabid cougar. Marlin opened his hands, ready to receive it. Revel in it. The one drug that never let him down.

Pure, sweet violence.

It wasn’t the yelling that made Shelby run.

She’d heard plenty of yelling in her career. Heated exchanges when emotions ran high and intellect took a backseat. More times than she could count she’d had to go toe-to-toe with some kid who towered over her, not flinching, not giving an inch. Not caring when he screamed right in her face.

No, yelling didn’t bother her. But the
tone
that came flying in through the open window … That bothered her. A lot.

A glacial fury. A low hiss, like slender streams of gas escaping a broken gas pipe, filling a room with unseen but undeniable danger.

This was a sound she’d only heard a few times, but unless stemmed, it would end in disaster. Little wonder, then, that she bolted out of her chair and raced down the hallway.

She didn’t even pause when heads turned her way as she cut through the rec room, shoving open the door to the basketball court outside. She rounded the corner then jerked to a halt.

Oh, Lord … help me!

Jayce Dalton was unloading on Marlin Murphy. The screams Jayce emitted sent shivers across Shelby’s shoulders. Screams of someone who had vanished into rage.

Marlin was taller, heavier, and—Shelby had always thought—the clear winner in a battle between the two. But what she saw in front of her changed her mind.

Jayce was on top of Marlin, his fists working fast and furious. In the heartbeat she stopped and stared, she thought Jayce
was going to take the kid. Then Marlin found an opening and landed a punishing blow to Jayce’s jaw. He grunted and collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

A string of obscenities slashed the air as Marlin grasped Jayce’s unconscious form, tossing him to the side, surging to his feet with a roar. His breath came in gulps, blood trickled from his bruised face, and when he turned, staring down at Jayce, Shelby knew.

If she didn’t act, Jayce would never get up.

Without giving herself time to reconsider, she grabbed a baseball bat from the equipment rack, then raced toward Marlin. “Stop!”

The bruiser looked up, fist poised, and froze. His blazing eyes narrowed as Shelby came to Jayce’s side, bat at the ready.

Marlin lowered his fist, his bloodied lips twisting into a sneer. “Hey there, beautiful. Welcome to the party.”