Page 10 of Judge's Mercy

I went right from pole dancing to prostitution, and after a week at the Honey Pot, I had no inhibitions left. Shame wasn’t allowed in my vocabulary anymore because I did so much more than fucking men, women, and couples. Sex is a form of therapy. It builds confidence, lets you experience intimacy, lowers psychological stress, and provides a world of other health benefits. So yes, I considered myself a type of sex therapist.

Until I was taken, beaten, and degraded without my consent, and it all fell apart.

“We were just kidding,” Satyr says, seeing my distress. “We didn’t mean to imply?—”

“It’s fine.” I clear my throat and wiggle the mouse to wake the computer screen that went black while we goofed around.

Dutch rests a hand on the back of my chair. “Myla, I’m?—”

“It’s fine, Dutch. I swear it.” I type in Satyr’s real name, his birthday, and his driver’s license number, then watch the screen bring up his information. I scan the information until my eyes catch on a few keywords. “You have a master’s degree in computer science?”

“It also says I’m a felon, but you choose to ask about my education?” He bumps his shoulder with mine. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re an optimist.”

My jaw clenches tight. He doesn’t know it, but I was an optimist up until a few months ago. I saw the good in everyone and every situation. For as awful as my parents were to Tinleigh and me, I knew they were doing their best. It’s crazy how you can spend twenty-one years of your life being hopeful and happy, and all it takes is four hours to change everything. Just four hours to undo it all.

“I expected the felonies. Didn’t expect the degree,” I say.

“Felony,” he corrects with a waggle of his brows. “I only got caught once.”

“Do me next.” Dutch hands me his ID.

I’m midway through typing his information in when the door opens to reveal Judge and Mary. What the hell is he doing here? Is he just going to pop up everywhere I go now? His steady gaze lands on me, but I can’t read his expression. Maybe he should play poker with as stoic as he is.

“Judge!” Satyr says, standing up and walking over to my stalker to give him a back-slapping hug. “How you been, brother?”

“It’s good to see you, man.” Dutch takes Satyr’s place and greets him in the same way. It’s how the Sons always greet each other. For a bunch of men who really lean into the whole alpha-male stereotype, they sure do embrace a lot. It’s actually one of the things I admire about the club. They have genuine respect and love for their brothers, not to mention undying loyalty.

“Figured it was time to come by and check the place out.” Judge’s hands go to his hips.

“It’s pretty cool, huh?” I take in the impressive room—and it is quite impressive—even if I don’t understand half of it. The wall-length desk and all the monitors make sense because they have to keep an eye on every inch of the property, but then there’s the adjacent wall covered in computer-looking things with blinking lights and a million labeled cables. I guess that’s where Satyr has put his degree to good use.

Judge ignores the question, his attention focused on me. “You settling in okay?”

“Just fine,” I quip.

“Good to hear.”

“So this is obviously the security room. The guys all have radios, and if someone sees something, they’ll alert whoever’s closest. Staff is always within thirty seconds of reaching any of my girls should they need help. This is also where we run background checks on our clients. That’s something I’ve never had at any of the properties I’ve worked for before, but thanks to Satyr, we can weed out anyone with a violent history.”

“Don’t background checks take a lot of time?” Judge asks.

“Not with the program I wrote.” Satyr grins proudly. “I’ll spare you the intricacies, but let’s just say the FBI has nothing on me. It’s not legal, of course, but we can get in and out of state and national systems before we’re even detected.”

“Cuts down on incidents, I’ll bet.”

“It does. That’s not to say there aren’t situations here and there, but my boys handle those.” Mary smiles down at Satyr and Dutch, who preen at the compliment. They’re adorable.

“This place is incredible,” Judge says.

“Can’t imagine you agree with what goes on here,” I mutter.

“I try not to quote the Bible because how cliché is that? But in this situation, ‘For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged’ is most fitting.”

“Amen.” Mary lifts her hands up in praise.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You’re right. That is so cliché.”

Judge falters at my sass before recovering and holding up a hand. “Anyway, I’m heading out now. See you guys later.”

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