The Proviso (113 page)

“You’re the woman of my soul, Giselle, and I knew it
the first time I saw you. And the second. And every time I’ve ever
looked at you. I will do whatever I have to do to keep you.” He
swallowed. “I’m here. On your terms.”

* * * * *

106:
POTSDAM DECLARATION

NOVEMBER 2008

The bed depressed underneath Justice and she
groaned. Knox scootched toward her, his back against the headboard,
until his hip brushed her back.

“Lunch time?” she croaked.

“Happily sucking away.”

She sighed in relief. A chance at a couple more
hours of sleep. Thank heavens for the breast pump.

“I have a surprise for you today. Well, a couple of
them, really.”

Yay. She’d rather sleep. “What?”

“I’m not
telling
you. That’s why they’re
called surprises.”

“So . . . all you really wanted was to tell me to
get my ass out of bed and get dressed?”

Silence. Then, “Well. Yeah. That. What you
said.”

“When did you turn into such a little boy?”

He chuckled. “When I fell in love with the little
girl on the front row.”

Justice snorted, answered by a little baby snort,
and she laughed. She opened her eyes and turned over to see Knox
sitting as she had felt him, cradling their bald newborn, one end
of a bottle in his hand and the other plugged into Mercy Hilliard’s
mouth.

“Big badass Chouteau County prosecutor Knox
Hilliard: A born dad,” she murmured wryly. “Who’d’a thunk it?”

“Vanessa thinks so.”

“Vanessa was twelve. She didn’t need to be
bottle-fed and have her diapers changed. She could speak in
complete sentences.”

“Complete sentences help. You should be glad I
already know how to raise a teenage girl.”

“Please. You probably terrified the girl.”

“The point was to terrify her mother and her
mother’s cronies. Which I did. And her boyfriends.”

“Except Sebastian.”

“Ah, but there’s a reason I don’t know about that
little fling, isn’t there?”

“Point taken.”

“So c’mon, get ready to go.”

Justice didn’t answer, but looked up at him, that
beautiful man who’d lost ten years off his face, who no longer
looked so haunted and cold, so troubled and hopeless—and hadn’t for
months. Professor Hilliard sat here in their bed with her, wearing
a ring that proclaimed him hers, holding the child they’d made
together.

He hadn’t bothered to shave this morning and his
scruffy face always made her heart pound a little faster, her
breath come a little shorter, her juices flow a little faster. She
wrapped her hand over the top of Knox’s denim-clad thigh and
stroked upward, slow, measured.

“What if I had plans for today?”

Too distracted by the baby, by his delight in his
new daughter, he didn’t notice when her hand slid around to the
inside of his thigh. “Did you?”

“I do now,” she murmured and cradled Knox’s cock in
her hand. His nostrils flared as he looked down at her, stunned. He
hardened immediately.

“Iustitia,” he breathed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m so wet for you right now I can’t think
straight.”

He looked down at the baby, who, wide awake, stared
adoringly up at her daddy, intermittently sucking, taking her time.
Mercy savored her meals like a sommelier savored each small sip of
wine. “Shit. She’s not going to be done anytime soon.”

Justice sighed. “Eilis warned me it’d be like
that.”

“I don’t believe that. Nothing gets between
Sebastian and his bed, especially if Eilis is in it.”

“You’re misinformed, trust me. Girls talk.”

His eyebrow rose. “Oh? Have you learned
anything?”

“Boy, you really don’t pay attention to much, do
you? The blindfold should’ve been your first clue.”

“I’m not going to let you hang out with those two
anymore, especially that freak Giselle.”

She laughed and his broad smile deepened his crow’s
feet.

“Go find your first surprise. It’s on the kitchen
table.”

Justice, still chuckling, sat up and swung her legs
over the edge of the bed. She glanced over her shoulder at him to
see him staring at her hotly, her back bare for his inspection—and
he took his time about it. “So can your other surprise wait?”

“It can now,” he replied gruffly. Poor man; he’d
been so patient with her the last few months and without a word of
complaint.

She smiled and went to the kitchen to find
yesterday’s
Wall Street Journal
on the table. Her brow
wrinkled. She’d looked all over for that yesterday, hadn’t found
it, and assumed Knox had left it somewhere. She picked it up and
gasped.

On the back page of section A was a full-page
ad:

*

Loving parents

Sebastian Taight and Blackwood Securities

are proud to announce the marriage of

Iustitia “Justice” Jane McKinley, Esq.

to

Dr. Fort Knox Oliver Hilliard

July 23, 2007

and the birth of

Miss Clementia “Mercy” Lilly Dianne Hilliard

September 24, 2008.

The terms of the OKH Enterprises Proviso have been
met.

Knox Hilliard will inherit the majority shares

on December 27, 2008.

Cut it a little close, didn’t you, Knox?

*

Justice didn’t hear Knox behind her until he said,
“That was Sebastian’s idea.”

“But, Fen—”

“Look on the editorial page.”

And there! Her jaw dropped. She covered her mouth
with a trembling hand at what stared back at her from the page: A
complete rundown of Fen’s evil from start to finish—in her words.
It had been signed by Sebastian Taight and Justice McKinley.

“But I— But he— I didn’t give him permission to use
that.”

“Yeah, don’t give him stuff he asks for without
finding out why he wants it. He’s evil like that.”

Dazed, she couldn’t utter a word.

“Look on the front page.”

And there, featured prominently, an article
detailing the investigations now swirling around Fen.

“That’ll give the FBI enough information to work
with, and Fen’ll be arrested and indicted soon enough. I’ve given
them the go-ahead to dig up my dad. I don’t think they’ll find
anything, but they have a couple of brand-new tests they want to
try out on him.” Knox wrapped a free arm around Justice’s waist and
pulled her back against his chest. The baby lay in the crook of his
other arm. “Wall Street exploded in ticker tape yesterday, Jack won
half of Vegas even though the bookies are screaming foul, Congress
had a collective heart attack, and
you
were the topic of
conversation all over talk radio. What did she know and when did
she know it?”

She sighed, seeing her career as a commentator
crashing into a big brick wall, and she said as much.

“Oh, I doubt that, considering Sebastian, Jack, and
I have been fielding phone calls and emails for the last
twenty-four hours asking about radio and television appearances—not
from us, mind you, but from
you
. Now, Mercy’s asleep,” he
whispered as he nuzzled Justice behind the ear, “and I need to
reward you for extraordinarily good work this semester, Miss
McKinley.”

* * * * *

“You keep going like that, I’m gonna have to get
Viagra sooner than I thought,” Knox muttered, disgruntled, as they
pulled out of the driveway some time later. “This is why I didn’t
want to marry a younger woman.”

Justice laughed. “How’s that working out for you so
far?”

He flashed her a wicked grin. “I think I’ll keep her
around for a while.”

“Oh, hey!” Justice said, distracted when she looked
into the diaper bag. “Stop by Hy-Vee. We’re almost out of
diapers.”

Justice liked walking around the grocery store with
her baby on her shoulder; people stopped to talk to her, to coo
over Mercy and ask about the baby’s particulars. Justice felt . . .
normal. Not a prosecutor, not a pundit, not the OKH Bride or mother
of the OKH Baby. She was just a woman taking care of her family,
and the grocery store was the great equalizer.

She grabbed a package of diapers and threw it in the
cart, then headed to the orange juice section to find Knox. She saw
him at the other end of the aisle with a bottle in each hand, his
head bowed as he compared labels. He started when a woman with a
sleek black ponytail and a seductive smile touched his arm.

Justice sucked in a breath and began to smile as she
drew closer.

“ . . . to see you again, Miss Quails,” Knox said
politely as if he didn’t remember exactly what he’d said to her the
last time he’d seen her. Sherry opened her mouth, but Knox
continued, “My wife and daughter are around here somewhere, if you
want to meet them.”

Sherry stiffened and looked as if she would decline,
but Justice said, “Right here,” and handed Mercy to Knox. Justice’s
gaze bored into Sherry’s, but Justice knew she had changed too much
for Sherry to recognize her.

“Miss Quails,” Knox said. “This is my wife, Justice
McKinley Hilliard. Perhaps you remember her?”

Sherry’s eyes widened and she sucked in a sharp
breath, blood rushing to her cheeks.

“Just so you know,” Justice said matter-of-factly,
“he fucks
much
better than he looks.”

* * * * *

They laughed the entire fifteen minutes it took to
get out of the grocery store and to Eilis’s house. To Justice’s
surprise, the massive gates were open. Not only that, but at least
fifty or sixty cars littered her driveway, roundabout, courtyard,
and lawn.

“Oh,” Justice whispered when she saw two huge
banners draped from one barren tree to the rooftop festooned with
colorful balloons.

CONGRATULATIONS, KNOX AND JUSTICE

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MERCY

“The Dunham tribe,” he said when he turned the car
off, then caught her complete incredulity.

“Wha— But your birthday—”

“Doesn’t matter. It was a done deal when Sebastian
and Jack placed that ad. This is for me, us, you, and it’s way
overdue. A welcome-home party, basically. I haven’t been to one of
these things since I killed Parley. I wasn’t welcome, plus I don’t
want to be within shouting distance of my mother. So today,” he
said, taking a deep breath, “is the first tribe party I’ve been to
in fifteen years and . . . ”

“And you’re nervous.”

He released the breath he’d taken on a long whoosh.
“Yeah.”

“So this is surprise number two?”

“Sort of. There’s one person in particular I want to
introduce you to.”

She looked at him, expecting him to tell her, but
her attention caught on the dozen or more people who spilled out of
the front door and headed for their car, the most recognizable
being her two very pregnant sisters-in-war. Then she gasped and
pointed at the man leading the way. She stuttered, then squealed.
“That— That’s Morgan Ashworth! Knox! He’s
here
!”

“Control yourself, Iustitia,” he drawled as he
opened his door and got out. “One of your prophets, right after
Walter Williams, I know. Devoted disciple. Surprise.”

“You’re
related
to him,” she accused hotly,
“and you never told me!”

“There’s a reason for that,” he said once he’d come
around to open her door and hand her out. “Whatever you do, don’t
tell him he’s part of your personal mythos. He’ll hear ‘prophet,’
mistake it for ‘God,’ and never be able to get his head through
another door ever again.” His smile was warm as he opened the back
door to get Mercy. “Welcome to my tribe, Iustitia.”

* * * * *

107:
GOOD NIGHT SWEET PRINCE

DECEMBER 4, 2008

3:57 a.m.

Justice, wake up. Justice!” The urgent whisper in
her ear barely began to register when a large hand clamped around
her chin like a vise and turned her head. A mouth pressed against
her ear. “Listen to me very carefully. Somebody’s in the house. Get
your gun and shoot to kill.”

The adrenaline surged instantly and she was wide
awake. She nodded, reached to her night stand, secreted her Glock
under her pillow to quietly pull the slide. “Be careful,” she
whispered. Knox rolled out of bed and pulled on boxers, then crept
out of the room, finger on the trigger of his own weapon.

She had chosen to come back to this fight and she’d
see it to its end.

Justice at all costs.

She glanced over at the crib where Mercy lay
sleeping, swaddled tightly. Her heart in her throat, she
waitedwaitedwaited and was not disappointed when a dark figure
appeared in her bedroom door . . .

The blast propelled the man back into the hall wall
where he slid down it and was still, head and arms limp as if he
were a rag doll. The baby screamed. Justice bounced off the bed and
went to the door, all pretense of stealth gone. She heard Knox’s
hoarse bellow, then another gunshot. Two, three more. She turned
and grabbed the phone to call the police, but the phone was dead
and her cell was in the basement. Knox’s cell was gone from his
night stand, so he must have already called.

“Justice!” Knox roared from somewhere deep in the
house. “Get Mercy and get out!”

That was when she saw the flames crawling over the
walls and the ceiling, down the hall toward her. She didn’t have
time to put anything on over the oversized Oxford and gray boxers
she already wore. Mercy’s wail barely registered as she slammed the
bedroom door closed and turned her gun on the beautiful mullioned
window she adored. Another shot, then another. Fire began to lick
under the door and she knew it wouldn’t be long before it ate the
door and flashed overhead.

Grabbing anything she could find for warmth and
having the presence of mind to grab the diaper bag, she picked up
her screaming baby and wrapped her well, then proceeded out the
window into the bitter December air, her bare feet landing hard on
the broken glass. Gathering everything up in her arms, she ran like
she had never run before. Flames blew out what remained of the
window behind her, forcing her to fight to stay upright. Fire
licked at her feet before she could recover and outpace it. She was
aware of the glass embedded in her soles only because it gave her
traction in the frosted grass, which would also cool her burned
feet. She felt no pain.