Justice

The first time I met Perry Reed, I was lying face down, bleeding from my nose and mouth, in severe pain, very pissed off and about to lose a finger to a large thug with a sharp switchblade. If Perry hadn't come along when she did, I'm sure my big mouth would have gotten me killed.

I couldn't sleep, so I was out for a walk, minding my own business, strolling through a dark and not-so-safe part of town that most normal people steer clear of at night. Sure, there was another, safer route back to my apartment, but I was tough. I was confident. No criminal would ever target me because I was cranky and I'd kick his ass.

Did I also mention I was stupid?

Take my word for it. Don't walk home through the bad section, no matter how tough you think you are. Know why? Because there's always somebody tougher who's willing to prove it to you. Believe me. I'm speaking from experience here.

So, there I am, moseying like an idiot down this seedy street full of homeless people and drunks when, lo and behold, I get jumped and dragged into the proverbial alleyway. Now, mind you, I'm no slouch when it comes to build. I'm a pretty good-sized girl who goes to the gym on a regular basis. I'm not fat by any means, but I'm solid and I'm tall...certainly not dainty. I immediately began kicking and fighting with all my strength, but this was one big dude. I don't think I've ever seen such huge hands. He had me pinned, my back against his front, one arm around my waist and one clamped around my neck, before I had much time to even think.

"Gimme whatchoo got," he hissed at me in that wonderful way thugs have of slaughtering the English language.

"I don't have anything, you fuck," I sneered back at him, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing me choking from the death grip around my larynx. "I was taking a walk."

He paused for a moment and I thought he was going to let me go and make a run for it. No such luck. Instead, he said, "Then I'll have me that there fancy ring you got."

I immediately saw red. My grandmother left me her engagement ring and I've worn it on my right hand since the day she died. It's a classy, beautifully set piece with tiny diamonds and rubies and I sometimes forget that it draws the attention it does. There was no way he was getting my ring.

"Like hell you will," I hissed through my tightly clenched teeth, trying to step up my struggling.

"Bitch, don't make me take off your finger."

"Fuck you." This was spoken with slightly less bravado than I had hoped, being that my air supply was quickly dwindling.

I felt his weight shift slightly. Then he whipped me around and my face hit the brick side of a building so fast, it literally made my head spin. I fell face down and he was on me in a second. I heard the sickening flick of what I knew was a switchblade and before I could think to protect myself, the bastard had a grip on my right wrist. I had a sudden flash from the movie Bound…the scene when the mob guys snip off Shelley's finger with some pruning shears because he won't tell them what they want to know. You know the one I mean? Ugh. My stomach turns whenever I think about it. The thought of my own finger falling to the ground all by itself sent a jolt of fear through me and I did something about as far from tough as you can get. I screamed like a girl as loud as I could.

I'm not really sure what happened next. As I said, I was face down and it was dark, so I couldn't see much. The weight pinning me to the ground was suddenly gone, my wrist freed and I heard two distinct punches, definitely the sound of flesh on flesh. Then another blow and a man's groan of pain. After that came a hollow sound, like wood or something, then a body hitting the ground.

I managed to push myself up on my hands and turn my head at that point, my face throbbing from its meeting with the bricks. I tasted blood and felt it on my chin. When I looked up, I saw a figure silhouetted by the street's vague lights several yards away. I knew immediately that it was not the thug. He was in an unconscious pile just an arm's length from me, a broken board on the ground next to him.

"Thanks," I managed to whisper to the outline.

It was definitely a female form and she looked behind herself, then back at me. "You talking to me?" she asked quietly, her voice gentle and soothing.

I snorted. "Who are you, Robert DeNiro? Of course I'm talking to you." I managed to sit my sorry ass up, gingerly feeling my face for grossly open wounds. The stranger stepped closer to me and squatted down so we were eye to eye.

"Are you all right?"

I was mesmerized by her voice. I couldn't make out much detail about her physical appearance. It was too dark. But that voice…it was deep and sexy, but decidedly feminine and god, it just melted into me. I swallowed, all my tough-guy persona suddenly nowhere to be found. I actually felt the threat of tears as my muscles started to quake uncontrollably from the adrenaline surge. I swallowed again. "I think so. Good thing you came along when you did."

"Yeah, well, next time, just give the jerk what he wants. You could have been killed. Nothing's worth your life, you know."

I wanted to argue that my grandmother's ring was worth a ton, but she was right and it was very clear at that moment. I was actually embarrassed by my behavior. I glanced to the sleeping bully. Even unconscious and crumpled, he was huge. He could have snapped my neck in a second. I felt infinitely stupid.

The quick burst of a police siren cut through my consternation and I looked up to see a cruiser stop at the end of the alley. Suddenly a powerful beam of light shone from it and I had to shield my eyes with my hand. The tin-like sound of a stern voice on a loudspeaker warned us not to move.

"Like I could run away even if I wanted to," I muttered, grimacing at my shaking knees. I turned and was surprised to find out I was alone. Well, alone except for the heap of male on the ground next to me.

The stranger had vanished.

Nearly two weeks passed before I saw the stranger again. To be honest, I had stopped obsessing about her (at least a little), allowing myself to accept the remotest of possibilities that maybe she had actually been a figment of my imagination. After all, she hadn't seemed any larger than I, but she had taken out the gargantuan thug with no problems whatsoever. Maybe it had actually been a guy and in the haze from the blow to my head, I'd made up details to satisfy my own fantasy. Who knew? Stranger things have been known to happen, right?

Anyway, it was early afternoon and I had bailed out of work early. The mid-September day was perfect - cool but sunny - and I knew there wouldn't be many more days to bask in the warmth of the sunshine before the icy chill of winter arrived. I took my brown bag lunch, signed myself out for the day and headed for a secluded spot along the river that I had come to think of as my own little hideaway.

I sat on a worn bench that was badly in need of a new paint job and munched on my fresh tomato sandwich, periodically tossing crumbs of bread to the two ducks who had honed in on the fact that I was eating. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, absorbing every last ray of sunshine I could into my body.

"Your face is healing up nicely," the soft, enticing voice said gently in my ear.

I was surprised to realize that I wasn't the least bit frightened. Instead, I let the sound of her flow through me for several more seconds before I opened my eyes and turned to face her. She sat on the bench next to me and watched me study her.

She was very attractive. This fact was the first to register in my sun-baked brain. Her hair was a wavy blonde, cut short around her face and tucked sweetly behind her ears. Her large blue eyes bored into me inquisitively, the light brows raised slightly as if in question. Her full lips were a healthy pink and she had a small mole on her left cheek. I took my time looking her over, wondering how she would react. Hell, the way she'd disappeared last time, who knew if I'd ever see her again? I was determined to get a good, long look.

Her body was long and lean and I guessed she would be around five ten when she stood. She had the hands of a pianist, long, tapered, elegant fingers and slim wrists. I had a hard time believing that this was the person who had incapacitated my attacker so handily, excuse the pun. She was dressed simply in jeans, a red, long sleeved t-shirt and brown leather oxfords.

My eyes returned to hers, only to find her waiting uncertainly. I held out my hand. "Kate Phillips."

She looked at my hand, then my face, my hand, my face, then finally slipped her own into my firm grip. Her flesh was cool, but her grip was strong. "Perry Reed."

"It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Reed," I smiled, using my most charming tone of voice. "You disappeared so quickly the last time we met that I didn't have a chance to thank you."

She reclaimed her hand slowly and looked around. We were alone and, for some reason, that seemed to ease her discomfort a bit.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I'm just glad I could help. You've got to watch out for that bunch. Satan's Disciples are a rough group. Not nice boys at all."

"Satan's Disciples?" I queried.

"Yeah. That's the name of the gang that dude belongs to. Bad news."

"Really. Satan's Disciples. They couldn't come up with something a little more inventive? Not to mention original."

She chuckled, a sound that came from deep in her belly and traveled through the bench to tickle the backs of my thighs. "Well, I don't think they're the smartest of men. They're just cruel."

"You seem to know a lot about them," I commented, leaning my head back again, unable to resist the draw of the sun.

"Yeah, well. I've been tracking them off and on."

I lifted my head and looked at her. The way the light reflected off her blonde head made her look almost angelic. "You have? Are you a cop or something?"

She looked surprised. "Me? Nah."

"It would be cool to be able to catch guys like that and just put 'em away, wouldn't it?"

"Sure would."

"They think they can get away with anything. Bullying and hurting innocent people. Taking whatever they want. Pisses me off. I wish there was a way to put them all in the slammer."

She grunted in agreement and we sat in silence for a long time, eyes closed, absorbing the autumn sun. I know it sounds weird, but it was so incredibly comfortable just being there with her, this woman I knew nothing about. It was unbelievably relaxing.

I'm not sure exactly how much time passed. Could have been three minutes, could have been three hours. I heard the crunching sound of gravel, meaning somebody was ambling past our spot. I was irrationally irritated at the intrusion. I mean, hey, I didn't own the bench. Or the path. Or the river. But I didn't want anybody else there at that moment. I looked up to glare at the intruder and only then did I notice I was alone.

"Dammit," I swore quietly. She had done it again.

Three days later, I was grocery shopping at the local Wegmans. I hadn't done so in over a month, so I had a pretty hefty cart I was attempting to steer.

I hate the grocery store. It's rarely a pleasant trip for me. As luck would have it, I got one of those idiot carts with one whacky wheel. Of course, I didn't realize it until I had way too much stuff in it to switch to another cart, so as I pushed it straight, the damn thing kept veering to the left.

On top of that, you have the little old ladies taking their time and stopping their carts in the middle of the damn aisle so they can get something off the shelf on the other side of the aisle. God, is it so hard to park your cart to the side, for crying out loud? You don't stop your car in the middle of the damn road, do you? Although, I suppose maybe these women do.

Anyway, I was in the last aisle, thank God, picking out a box of ice cream sandwiches, when I felt the distinct, prickly sensation of eyes watching me. I looked up and there, across the rows of freezers, stood Perry, blonde hair glowing, blue eyes sparkling with a smile. She held my gaze for a split second and I quickly dropped the ice cream into my cart and grabbed the handle. When I turned the cart towards her, she was gone.

I spent the next twenty minutes cruising up and down the store aisles trying to catch a glimpse of her, but to no avail. She had disappeared for the third time and I went home even more annoyed than I thought possible.

That was the beginning. The day after my shopping trip, I started to see Perry on a regular basis. Just glimpses, mind you, but it was her. She was everywhere I was, it seemed. The gas station, the movies, the local gay bar (good sign!), the video store. I learned to restrain myself from trying to get close to her, because she would inevitably just vanish again. It was hard as hell, but once I'd resigned myself to the fact that she would approach me when she was ready, I was much more at ease. I simply smiled warmly at her whenever I saw her. She smiled back, largely, setting my stomach to doing flip-flops.

Things went like that for weeks. Perry was everywhere, but we never talked. It was strange and comforting at the same time, knowing she was so close, so often. Looking back now, I suppose I should have been alarmed - she was practically stalking me, for Christ's sake - but I wasn't. On the contrary, I was oddly at ease, knowing she was watching me. I felt protected.

One night as I was walking home from a late movie I'd seen with some friends, I heard a commotion across the street. I squinted in the lights of the street lamps and saw two young men exit a liquor store just as a dark car screeched to a halt. They were running like their collective ass was on fire. They jumped into the car and it sped away loudly. All this occurred in the space of about thirty seconds. Other pedestrians looked around in bewilderment as a very pale and shaking man stepped out of the store and looked after the car. He shook his head sadly and went back in.

Before I could move a muscle, I heard a "psst" from my right. I turned my head and saw Perry standing in a phone booth not three feet away. She motioned me to her.

"Hi," I smiled, glad to see her beautiful face, and trying to think of a good opening line, starting with why the hell she'd been following me, but wouldn't talk to me.

She handed me the receiver. "Call 911. Tell the police that the two guys who just robbed that liquor store are Carl and Jeffrey Bantam. They're brothers and they live at 157 East Main, apartment seven."

I blinked at her.

"Here!" She pushed the handset against my chest until I took it. "Do it!" Seeing me wavering, she relaxed a little. "Just trust me, okay? You don't have to tell them your name."

I debated for another ten seconds before making the call. I kept my voice calm and gave all the details Perry had instructed me to give, keeping contact with her gorgeous blue eyes as I spoke, watching her nod in encouragement. When the operator asked for my name, I simply hung up.

"Good job." Perry smiled at me.

"What the hell was that about?" I asked loudly, thoroughly confused and more than a little nervous about the call I'd just made. I stuck my tongue out at a man who gave me a strange look as he passed.

"Let's just say, you did a good deed and leave it at that." At my raised eyebrow, she added, " And you might want to head home. They probably traced the call to this booth."

My heart jumped into my throat and I leapt out of the phone booth as if I had been standing on hot coals. Perry found this amusing and chuckled.

"I'll see you around, Katie." She winked, then took off down the street and was around the next corner in a matter of seconds. I opened my mouth to call to her, but the sound of an approaching police siren made me snap it shut. I headed towards home at a brisker-than-necessary pace, garnering quite a few odd looks from pedestrians as I blew past.

Friday had been ridiculous at work. The phones were ringing off the hook and it seemed that at the other end of every call was a disgruntled customer. By the time five o'clock rolled around, I was mentally exhausted.

My friend Sarah had called earlier in the day to tell me that she, her girlfriend and another couple were going out to happy hour. Did I want to go? In most cases, I would have jumped at the chance to hit the bar with a group of people. I kept thinking I'd meet somebody one of these times. But I was beat and sure I wouldn't be much of a conversationalist. I bowed out, thanking Sarah profusely for the invite, hoping to assure that she'd call me next time. I decided on a video and some Italian comfort food, my big, baggie sweats and my couch. The only thing missing was somebody to snuggle with, but I knew that would happen eventually.

I had broken up with Denise only three months earlier and though it was still painful, it had been necessary. To be honest, I was kind of liking this alone time. It had been good for me. I was only then beginning to feel ready to re-enter the wonderful world of dating, so the idea of being home alone on a Friday night wasn't really all that bad. I was okay being with me. Well, me and my cat, Jaime Sommers.

I crested the top of the stairway to my third floor apartment, trying to balance a warm calzone in a box, my briefcase, a copy of The Green Mile and my keys.

"Hey."

The sound startled me, but I wasn't surprised to hear the voice. Perry sat on the floor in the hall, her back against my door, smiling with those great lips of hers.

"Hey, yourself," I responded, my heart doing a little pitter-patter in my chest. "What are you doing here?"

Her smile faltered just slightly. "Waiting for you. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Come on in." I lead the way into my apartment and gestured toward the overstuffed and well-used maroon couch. "Have a seat. You want something to drink?"

"Oh, no, thanks. I'm fine."

At the sound of my voice, Jaime Sommers came shooting out from the bedroom, as she does every night when she knows I'm home. I like to think it's because she loves me, but I'm afraid the truth of it is, she views me as the waitress. She came bounding into the living room and stopped dead in her tracks. Her tail curled and the fur on her back immediately stood on end. She hissed wickedly in Perry's general direction, then took off back to the bedroom.

I furrowed my brow. "Jaime!" I called after her, embarrassed. I grimaced apologetically at Perry. "Sorry. That was weird. She never does that. She likes everybody. Jaime! Come out here!"

"It's okay." Perry shrugged. "Cats aren't very fond of me."

"Well, that was just bizarre." I looked at my houseguest for a long minute. I really liked her being there, though I had no idea why. It just felt right. I blinked and let out a deep breath.

"So, what brings you to my neighborhood?"

Perry sat back against the couch. "I wanted to let you know that the police nabbed those two guys who robbed that liquor store, thanks to your 'anonymous' tip." She made quotation marks in the air.

I smiled. "Two more pieces of scum off the street."

"Nice work, Detective Phillips."

"Not so bad yourself, Detective Reed." We stood in awkward silence for a minute or two before I was able to summon up the nerve to ask the question most prevalent in my mind. "Hey…um, I just got a movie and a calzone and I was just going to hang out here. You want to keep me company?"

I don't know why I was so nervous to hear her answer. I mean, I didn't know her from Adam. I did know that I was incredibly attracted to her, but that was beside the point.

Luck was with me, though, because she agreed to stay. I actually got the impression that she had been hoping I'd ask.

"Do you mind if I get out of these work clothes?" I gestured to my navy blue pantsuit.

I swear I saw the slightest flicker of a mischievous grin before she answered. "Please. Go ahead."

I'm sure I set the land speed record for fastest change ever, returning to the living room in no time flat wearing my cozy, comfy gray sweats and Gap sweatshirt. Perry refused my offer of half my calzone, but insisted that I go ahead and eat. After I popped the tape into the VCR, I hobbled back to the couch and sat heavily.

"Are your feet bothering you?" she inquired, concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah. Always. The man who invented heels should be shot."

"Here." She patted her lap. "Lie back and put your feet here."

I searched her eyes, looking for - I don't know what. I saw nothing there but sincerity. I slowly shifted my body and set my socked feet gently in her lap. She pulled the white athletic socks off by the toes, her cool hands going immediately to work on my aching arches. I bit back a groan of pleasure, my eyes dropping closed. A minute later, her movements stopped and I opened my eyes to find her sparkling gaze lingering on me in amusement.

"Were you going to start the movie?"

"Oh…" I stammered, raising myself on an elbow, feeling the deep blush creep up my neck. "Um, yeah." I hit the play button on the remote and she returned to her task.

The woman had incredibly magical hands, that's all I can say. I remember absolutely nothing about the movie. I do remember the shots of electricity, the jolts of pure sexual energy that went directly from her hands up my legs and straight into my groin. It was unbelievable. Not only did she allay the pain in my sore arches, but she nearly brought me to climax right there on my own couch simply by massaging my feet! I couldn't figure out if she had some special touch or if I was just easy. Could have been either.

I don't know how long the massage went on. I'd like to say it was hours, but it could have been minutes. I have no idea when I fell asleep. I vaguely remember the gentle comfort of my afghan being laid over my body. I am sure I felt soft lips press to my forehead and gentle fingers brush my hair out of my eyes. Then, I was off to la-la land.

Several days went by before I saw Perry again. Quite frankly, I was a little annoyed. I had awoken on my couch in the middle of the night on Friday to find myself alone, blue snow hissing on the television screen and no lights on in my apartment. I was embarrassed for falling asleep on my guest and I had wanted nothing more than to apologize to her, but I had no idea how to contact her. I had decided I would have to wait until she contacted me. When the entire weekend passed without a call, I felt awful, thinking she was really turned off by the fact that I had crashed on her. Once Tuesday rolled around, I was irritated instead. I mean, if she was going to offer to rub my feet like she did, she should have understood the possible consequences, right?

The parking lot of my office building backs up to a wooded area and there are tables to the sides of the pavement where my coworkers will often spend their lunch hours. Wednesday was a rather pleasant day for autumn. It was cool, but the sun was shining and I couldn't resist its warm pull.