Page 2 of Judge's Mercy

CHAPTER ONE

MYLA

Ipound on the door to the security room, confident and determined. Folding my arms over my chest, I narrow my brows and wait. Seconds later, the doorknob turns, and I stand face to face with Lucky, the Sergeant at Arms for the Sons of Erebus MC and my twin sister’s boyfriend.

“What’s up, short stuff?” he asks, a grin spreading across his handsome face.

“I need a job.”

His smile falls as he grips my arm and pulls me inside. He pushes me into a chair before shutting the door behind him. I gaze up at the computer screens that monitor every inch of the Honey Pot. I’ve never been on this side of the security feed, and it feels strange. Weeks ago, I was the one dressed in a glittery tank top that dipped low between my breasts and a micro-mini skirt that showed off the rounded swells of my ass, giving my clients a taste before I rocked their world and laughed my way to the bank. Now, it’s the woman who replaced me walking down the hall with a client in tow.

I lose sight of them once they’re past the threshold to the experience rooms since there are no cameras down that way, but I know exactly what will happen. Prostitution was the best job I’ve ever had, and if the thought of being naked in front of a man anytime soon didn’t throw me into a panic attack, I’d still be doing it.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lucky says.

I spin to face him. “Why not?”

“After everything that happened. . .”

I roll my eyes in frustration, ignoring his mention of “everything that happened,” even though the memories of that day consume my thoughts, making it difficult to sleep without being plagued by nightmares. If I told him that the rage inside only grows stronger with each passing day, he would throw me over his shoulder and take me back to the clubhouse where he could keep an eye on me. That’s the last thing I want; it’s bad enough that they’ve enlisted Judge to do a daily welfare check.

“I don’t want my old job back. I want a new one,” I say.

“Like what? Housekeeping or bartending?”

“No.” I turn back to the monitors, my eyes jumping from screen to screen. “I was thinking security, like you.”

His answering cackle boils my blood. “No offense, Squirt, but you’re five feet tall and a hundred pounds. You’re not scaring anyone.”

“No shit, Sherlock, but there’s no reason why I can’t run background checks and watch for problems.”

“You want my job? Take it. It’ll give me more time to dick down your sister.” He grins salaciously.

“Gross.” My lip curls. “Can we please not talk about what you do to my sister? I’m having a hard enough time keeping food down these days.”

Worry takes over his expression, and he sinks into the chair next to me. “I thought you looked thinner. Have you called Danielle yet?”

“I don’t need a fuckin’ shrink,” I sneer. “I need a job. Something to keep me busy.”

“Let’s call Tinleigh. She should be in on this conversation.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, but I tear it from his hand before he can dial.

“Fuck you. I don’t need my sister involved in every decision I make.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

He turns sheepish. “If I convince Rigger to give you a job here without telling her, she’ll have my balls in a vice.”

“Pussy.” I hand him his phone back, secretly happy that he’s afraid of my sister. After spending so much of her life in fear of men, she deserves to wear the pants in her relationship.

Lucky stares at the device for a long minute before turning his stormy eyes on me. “I’ll talk to Rigger about giving you some work. In the meantime, you have to promise to tell Tinleigh what you’re up to.”

“Fine.” I stand.

“Can I ask why? I mean, it’s not like you need the money. You should be taking this time to figure out what you want to do with your life, not taking some dumb job.”

He’s right. I don’t need the money. Between what I saved from working at the Honey Pot and the pity money the club kicked me, my expenses are covered for at least the next year. Longer, if I’m careful, but that has nothing to do with this, and since I can’t think of an answer that will appease him, I give him a small amount of honesty. “Being alone with my thoughts isn’t good for me.”

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