Page 48 of Judge's Mercy

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad.” He looks up as he crouches to lace up his own boots, and I respond with a tight-lipped smile that he returns, except mine is fake as shit, and his is real. “I’m headed that way too.”

“Guess I’ll see you there then.” I grab my backup leather coat, since the one from last night is a little crusty, and leave him standing in my living room.

I should clean up the bloody clothes before I go—it’s an unnecessary risk leaving them lying around—but I can’t miss this brunch. I wasn’t kidding when I said Tinleigh threatened to come here, and there’s not a chance in hell I want that happening.

Climbing on my bike, I take off out of the complex, and it’s not long before another bike pulls up alongside me. Without glancing over, I know it’s Judge. Of course it is, and fuck me, he’s even sexier on a bike. I can’t seem to shake the guy, though once I take the exit to the desolate road that leads to the clubhouse, I try. Accelerating, I leave him in my dust.

My heart rate climbs along with my speed as I race down the road, surprised when he catches up. It’s a very un-Judge-like thing to do, but it’s good to see him letting loose. The ache between my legs certainly reminds me of how he let loose on my pussy last night.

If there is a God, he or she or they are mocking me by delivering the perfect specimen of a man who can fuck me cross-eyed while I’m in the middle of an existential crisis.

By the time we pull into the lot, we’re neck-and-neck but I’ve taken a slight lead, and I’m grinning in earnest. Feeling the slight bit of happiness doesn’t hit me hard now like it did last night. I wasn’t lying when I told Judge I was emotional from the orgasms, but it was also the adrenaline dump from the kill and the realization that I might be healing without even knowing or trying. It’s the Judge effect. He did it to Tinleigh too, though his methods with her were more conventional and didn’t involve orgasms.

“Beat ya,” I say, taking my helmet off.

“I let you win.” When his matte black dome comes off, I notice his hair is free of the tie that usually keeps it in a ponytail at the base of his neck. Fuck me twice because he’s even sexier with his hair loose.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” I snark.

He flashes me a goddamn wink before strolling off to the side yard. “I’ll see you later, Myla.”

“Asshole,” I mutter.

“Sister!” Tinleigh shouts from the entrance to the clubhouse, and I make my way over to her.

“Hey, Tinny,” I say, pulling her in for a hug.

“How are you?”

“I’m good.”

She pulls away, holding me at arm’s distance and gasps. “What happened?”

I knew my makeup job wasn’t good enough to hide the bruising, and there’s no good way to disguise a split lip, so I already have a story lined up. “Got into a catfight at a bar last night.”

She narrows her eyes, trying to decide if I’m lying. That whole twin telepathy is real, but we haven’t spent much time together in the last few years, so the tie between us is weak.

“It’s not like you to fight.”

“Some bitch thought I was eyeing her man. When I told her I’d never go for a dude-bro who’s so ugly, even his hairline is running away from him, she got pissed for a whole new reason. Honestly, I thought I was just stating facts, not insulting him. She didn’t agree and threw hands.”

Her hand shoots up to cover her mouth. “Oh my god.”

I shrug. “No big deal. They got kicked out, and the bar comped my drinks.”

“Who did you go to the bar with?”

“No one. I just needed to get out of my apartment and thought I’d go out for some bar food and a beer.”

She hums and links her arm with mine, leading me into the clubhouse. “Was that Judge pulling in with you?”

“Not with me. We just so happened to get here at the same time.”

She hums again, not believing me but thankfully not pressing the issue. I didn’t think about how arriving together would look. That was an oversight, and unless I want my sister planning a double date with her and Lucky, I need to be more careful.

The clubhouse looks the same as ever. The two-story vaulted ceiling with exposed pipes and a cement floor that’s painted to look like marble make the space feel palatial. When you see the bar with a raw metal SOE emblem attached to the front, the copper patina bar top, and row upon row of blue-collar liquor, it feels more like what it is. To the left of the bar is a game room with pool tables and other drinking games, a small stage with a stripper pole in the center, and a huge ass TV as a backdrop. For the most part, everything is in one large room, but since I lived on the compound for a time, I know there’s also an industrial kitchen behind the bar, a room that’s off-limits to anyone except ranking members, and communal bathrooms and a couple bedrooms used for storage.

If I keep walking straight, it’ll lead me out the backdoor, where tiny cabins belonging to ranking members are scattered amongst the pine trees. Some have been remodeled and look almost new, while others look like Mother Nature is trying to reclaim them. Judge’s and Riot’s cabins fall into the latter category. I know they have the money to make them nice because Lucky has eluded to how well the club does, but for whatever reason, neither of them has done anything.

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