Twin Threats In Austin (Marshals of Mesa Point #6)

Prologue

Justina Worth could have sworn the cute stranger who had been eyeing her from across the room had walked out of the nightclub fifteen minutes ago. Yet, there he was, staring at her from the other side of the room. Maybe he’d stepped outside to breathe fresh air. Or to see if you would follow.

Had she missed an opportunity? Justina smoothed down her hair and reached inside her handbag for lip gloss. She’d read somewhere that men were attracted to thick, shiny lips. There wasn’t much she could do about her thin mouth, but she could make those lips slick.

A thrill of anticipation struck. She’d been lonely since her father had died last month. He might have been one mean son of a bitch, but he’d been her papa, and she’d loved him despite his faults and the way he’d treated her.

The Inner Haven Disco Club was wall-to-wall people tonight. Justina hadn’t been on the dance floor one time without being elbowed in the back, the ribs, and, once, the boob. The place was hopping.

The stranger’s gaze was fixed on her. Something seemed different about him. What was it? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Glancing down at her beer, she wondered if she’d had one too many tonight.

“No such thing,” Papa would’ve said. This was her third.

Papa would’ve laughed at her and called her a lightweight if he’d still been here.

No, Papa wouldn’t have let you drink at all, a voice in the back of her mind reminded.

He would’ve said beer was wasted on you and told you to drink water instead.

The stranger started toward her, looking right at her. Maybe she would get lucky enough to meet a nice guy tonight, after all.

Life had been lonely since losing Papa. Justina had no one to talk to once she arrived home from a long day at work.

Papa had drilled it in her head that she might not look like much, but she was a good cook, and she’d always had a smile for him.

He’d liked having her around even though he’d lost his temper at her more times than she could count.

Papa hadn’t known about Justina’s wishes—wishes that sometimes made her feel bad—for him to die.

He’d made her steal pills at her job to give to him, so he hadn’t had to pay for prescriptions.

The residents of Memory Care Assisted Living didn’t remember how many pills they were supposed to take, anyway.

The ones who did and reported Justina could easily be gaslighted.

Who would you believe—a resident with Alzheimer’s, or the company’s star-of-the-month employee four months running?

Changing all those bedpans and turning residents from side to side each day had prepared her to take the best care of Papa at his end. She made enough to keep the lights on and food on the table, despite them being scraps by the end of every month.

Tonight’s miniskirt and tight blouse had come courtesy of the Goodwill down the street. If Papa had seen her, he would’ve told her to wash that god-awful makeup off her face and put on some clothes. She couldn’t help but laugh. Justina liked the way men were looking at her tonight.

They noticed her. Finally.

Cute Stranger stopped in front of her. This close, she could see the whites of his otherwise brown eyes. A baseball cap covered most of his dark hair. At six feet, he was tall and built like a brick house.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gruff.

The way he looked at her would’ve made Papa turn in his grave.

“Hey yourself,” she replied, feeling—dared she say—sexy.

Justina stood a little straighter because it made her boobs look bigger. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Want to get out of here?” Cute Stranger asked. “Go somewhere I can hear myself think?”

Papa wouldn’t have approved.

“Okay,” she said, grabbing her beer to give herself some liquid courage on her way toward the door. “But we ain’t going to my place.”

“Not a problem,” Cute Stranger responded, reaching for, and then holding, her hand.

She had to work to keep her body from tensing. Her hand hadn’t been held since grade school.

Papa would’ve told her not to go home with a stranger.

“Take this,” Cute Stranger said, pressing a pill into her palm.

“What is it?” Justina asked. She ignored the voice in her head belonging to Papa, warning her to stop right now, young lady.

“Something to help you loosen up,” Cute Stranger said. A man this good-looking could have any woman in the room.

And he wants you!

Another thrill of excitement rocketed through her body, causing electricity to pulse through her. If she’d known that going against Papa’s rules could be this thrilling, she would’ve done it long ago.

Justina popped the pill and chased it down with the rest of her beer. “Where are you taking me?”

She blinked up at the man who was almost a foot taller than her five foot, two inches.

“Home,” was all he said as he smiled down at her. There was something about the way he looked at her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it caused her to shiver.

Is this what a man looks like right before he makes love to a woman?

At thirty-two, Justina wasn’t a virgin, but it had been a long time since she’d been with a man, and she’d sure as heck never done it with a stranger.

After downing the last drop of beer, she set the bottle on the table near the exit. Papa drank beer out of a can. Bottles were classy.

Cute Stranger’s big hand covered hers as they exited the club.

At his pickup, he even opened the door for her. Justina smiled at him. She’d found herself a real gentleman this time. If only Papa was alive to watch how this man treated her.

The investment in the miniskirt and makeup was paying off. See, Papa? Men do like me.

After climbing into the cab of the pickup with the help of Cute Stranger, Justina felt loopy and a little bit drowsy.

Those ten-hour shifts spent lifting overweight old folks were catching up to her.

She worked at an old folks’ home, except she’d been warned not to call it that anymore.

It was still true. At twenty-six dollars an hour, she didn’t care what they wanted her to call the place.

Cute Stranger took the driver’s seat as her body numbed. A beer too many? What did it matter? Justina was beginning to relax. She felt loose, like not much mattered, and life was playing out in front of her, no longer happening to her.

“Put this on,” Cute Stranger said before handing over a black silk sack big enough to put over her head.

“What for?” she asked, figuring she had a right to know even though she had no power to resist.

“Because I said so,” Cute Stranger stated.

Justina didn’t like how much Cute Stranger had just sounded like Papa. Though, it was like she was out of her body, watching, so she put the bag over her head anyway.

“Now, you’re mine,” the man said in a low growl.