Page 52 of Justice For Me

Once they were safely inside the courthouse, away from the screaming media, Malachi maneuvered them into the spot that he and Dustin felt was the safest, just in case something happened that required them to choose between fight and flight. He’d barely caught his breath before his father closed in on them. His eyes, the same blue as his own even if he wasn’t his father, glared in Malachi’s direction. Malachi didn’t blink. It was a cold-as-ice stare down between the two alpha men.

“Malachi,” Christopher hissed when they were finally facing off, only inches separating them.

“Director Conners,” Malachi answered respectfully, causing the other man’s eyes to arch almost right off his head. Malachi being polite was clearly something new to him. His cold glare drifted between the man he who knew to be a Dom and his son…who was apparently submissive…and bisexual. Shit, but this babysitting job had gone straight to hell in a handbasket. He didn’t want his son hurt, and he damned well knew Malachi was quite capable of doing that. He also knew Justice was just as capable, himself.

“I need to discuss some things with my son.” His eyes dared the man to challenge him. “In private.”

“I can’t allow that, Director Conners. I need to ensure his safety at all times.” He pointed to a corner spot that offered the protection of two walls behind them. “Is that spot private enough? I’ll give you as much space as possible…and still keep my boy safe.”

Conners grit his teeth together to keep from snarling at the man he’d trusted to protect his son…only to find out he was tying him up so he could spank and fuck his ass. He wanted to rip Malachi’s eyes out…he wanted to wrap Justice in a hug that could protect him from the heartbreak that would surely be coming his way…he wanted his son to find love…

“Don’t push me, Malachi. Dante is the only reason you are still alive right now.”

“Dad,” Justice hissed in surprise. He grabbed his dad’s upper arm and led him to the spot Malachi had indicated. Poor Malachi, he thought the director was mad at him. He knew his dad wasworriedfor him.

“Justice,” his dad muttered and then pulled him into a tight hug that would have been totally unacceptable to most guys Justice’s age. Justice soaked in the affectionate touch, recognizing it as a safe touch for him. Christopher Conners loved him, always had and always would. It killed him to know he was the cause of his dad’s worries right now. He’d been nothing but fucking trouble since the moment he’d been pulled out of that filthy crack house.

“What are you doing, son? You know this is dangerous for you.”

Justice watched as his father’s fingers traced the path of the words on his wrists. He’d been there with him when he’d gotten the tattoos. He knew why they were there, how badly they were needed in order to help him stay grounded. Focus. His father’s eyes were damp with unshed tears.

“I’ve got this, dad. I promise,” he said in a hushed tone that he hoped Malachi couldn’t hear. He’d already noticed his lover’s violet eyes track the way his father focused on the tattoos. “I’m not going to screw up…again.” Shit, but he sounded pathetic. There was no way his father could have any faith in him when he sounded like such a fucking weakling.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Justice.” His dad whispered. His hands still gripped Justice’s wrists tightly, like he was afraid of letting go. “I’ve seen what this can do to you and I damned well don’t want to see it happen again. You’re too important to me and your mother. Please, son,” he pleaded. “Please tell me you’ve got everything under control.”

Justice felt like the little drug-addicted motherless bastard kid again. He was a grown fucking man one minute and a whimpering whelp the next. The taste of fear and loneliness still lingered in his mouth…and mind. Eight years. He had lived eight years without love or affection, without anyone touching him unless it was to abuse his body in some way. He was twenty one years old now. That meant he’d lived thirteen years with nothing but love and affection from his adopted parents. Why the hell, then, did the eight years always override the thirteen? Why couldn’t he let it go? Ten fucking years of therapy with the FBI’s finest and he was still fucked up in the head. He was still that little boy in the closet, hiding and hoping.

“Malachi and Megan won’t hurt me. I know my place in this…relationship, dad. I won’t let things get out of control.”

His dad’s gaze dropped to stare at his wrists. Justice knew it was to hide the pain in his eyes. He knew Justice was going to fuck up. He didn’t want it to happen, but knew it would. He’d been there all the times before. He’d had to pick up the pieces…

“I don’t think they will hurt you on purpose.” A nervous hand swept through his hair as he struggled to come up with the right words…words that wouldn’t break his son’s heart but still give him a proper warning. “Hell, the alpha dick is smitten with you, that much is painfully obvious.” His eyes rose to spear Justice’s gaze. “Does he know?”

“Doesn’t need to,” Justice answered bitterly. “I’m fine. I’ve got this.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, son! I know. You’re trying to hide your feelings with this type of relationship. You’re thinking you don’t deserve love…real love and settling for something purely sexual instead.” His hands gripped Justice’s tattoos even tighter…his eyes even more desperate and troubled. “Stop hiding, son,” he pleaded. “If you keep hiding, you’re going to miss something really special.”

Fuck, he didn’t think he had even a chance of making this work. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. From the corner of his eye, he saw Malachi’s body tense as he watched Justice’s dad plead…and put too much damned focus on his tattoos. His lover looked confused, almost hurt, as he tried to understand what was going on. He forced his eyes away. He couldn’t deal with that shit right now. His dad was wrong, a purely sexual relationship was exactly what he needed…was the only thing he could handle without turning it into some sort of freak show.

“I know that. I love you guys, too.” He pulled him into a hug. “I’m going to be fine,” he whispered into his dad’s ear.

“You’ll always be that little boy in the closet to me, Justice. Don’t get mad because I’m always worrying or trying to protect you.”

“Won’t happen,” Justice said quickly. Then, as a weak attempt at a joke, he added, “You know how desperate I am for affection, I love that you still worry about me.”

Eyes darkened in warning. “Justice, don’t joke about…”

Malachi quickly moved in, positioning his body protectively in front of Justice. “He’s here. You guys need to finish this argument later.”

Justice and his father’s gaze traveled in the direction that Malachi was looking. The Jericho security team had already formed a protective circle around the three of them. Papa O’Hara was making an appearance after all. This was precisely what they had been afraid of. The very fact that the O’Hara patriarch was at the courthouse sent red flags waving from every corner and Malachi’s instinct to protect what was his was rearing its dominant head.

“Shit! What the fuck is he doing here?” Conners hissed. Like Malachi, his body automatically moved to protect his son and he immediately started talking to his team through his headset.

“What are you going to do, Justice?” Malachi asked softly, his eyes never leaving the older man as he continued to make his way toward them.

“Hide behind you two like a trembling girl,” Justice answered dryly. His father snorted back a laugh.

“Well, I see you haven’t made any progress with his smart mouth, Malachi,” he taunted playfully.

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