Page 60 of Judge's Mercy

His position must be cushy because, by five o’clock that evening, he’s already sitting in the plush leather seat of his luxury car, heading home. Not the one he shares with his wife and children in the wealthy suburbs of Reno, but his other home—the twisted haven he shares with a select group of powerful men. According to the government, it’s a center for teens with counseling and resources for jobs, schooling, and housing. It’s all bullshit because inside are underaged girls, discarded and abandoned by their families for reasons unknown, kept to fulfill the men’s sick fantasies.

Judging by the paraphernalia, they keep the kids compliant with drugs. Addiction is a nasty thing, and when someone is deep in it, they’ll do almost anything to keep a steady hook-up. What I don’t know is if the girls can come and go, or if they’re being held captive. Either way, it’s disgusting, and David deserves whatever end I choose for him. Once he’s gone, I’ll figure out a way to report what’s going on and let the cops handle the rest.

A knock on my door, followed by the sound of my lock disengaging, has me slamming my laptop shut and tucking the little camera back into my jacket. The door opens just as I’m relaxing back on the sofa, feigning interest in my phone. I don’t have to look up to know who it is because Judge has been coming by every evening this week to bring me food and attempt to get me to talk about us.

His confusion at my sudden cold shoulder is justified. Even more so when I refused to offer any explanation beyond ‘I can’t be what you need me to be.’ He dismissed my excuse as “bullshit” and has been relentlessly trying to reason with me ever since, his desperation growing with every attempt.

“How do you feel about burgers tonight?” he asks, setting paper bags on the table. Or at least that’s what I hear because I’m pretending my phone is the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen, even though I’m looking at the search results for “how to get rid of an annoying fuck buddy” and not finding any helpful tips. “I brought you something else too.”

“Oh yeah? Is it deadbolt so I can keep you out?” I see his jeans and boots in my periphery as he sits down at the other end of the sofa.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips, causing a flurry of butterflies to flutter in my stomach. It frustrates me that I can’t seem to control my physical response to him, and I’m pretty sure he’s aware of it too. If only he knew that every night after he leaves, I reach for one of my vibrators to quell the intense attraction he ignites within me.

A sharp object pokes my thigh through my jeans, causing me to jump in surprise. I instinctively look down at my leg and am shocked by what I see. A small, fluffy kitten with matching gray fur and eyes is staring back up at me with a curious expression on its face.

Listen, I don’t care who you are or how tough you think you are. The only reaction to unexpectedly seeing a kitten is to squeal. Which I do, scaring the poor thing. I quickly scoop it up, cooing as I hold it up to my face and inspect every perfect inch of it.

“You got a kitten?” I ask, peering over at the man who just made my night.

“No, you did.”

Wait, what?

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

JUDGE

As Myla snuggles the gift I gave her, her eyes widen comically. I know it’s a sneaky tactic, but I’ve been trying to break down her defenses for a week now, and she hasn’t shown the smallest hint of giving in.

Ever since our last time together, something changed between us and she’s been distant. She’s gone back to how she used to be when we first met. I can’t help but feel hurt because her change in behavior coincided with my most vulnerable confessions. I have to believe this has nothing to do with what we shared, though, because the alternative would destroy me.

My guess is that something about that night made Myla feel things she hadn’t planned on, so she shut down. I should’ve known this would happen. After all, the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. She’s played this cat-and-mouse game with me for months, and I refuse to let it stop me from pursuing her.

“Why are you giving me a cat?” she asks, but it sounds like an accusation.

“I told you we did a charity run for the animal shelter last weekend. Remember?”

“Okay. That still doesn’t explain why I’m holding the cutest little ball of fluff to ever exist.” The baby voice she uses to describe her new pet is fucking adorable and so out of character. It’s also the reaction I was hoping for. Myla’s quick to shut down each avenue to her authentic self that I try to open, but I know that if I stay the course, she’ll eventually feel safe enough to let me in. Not for a visit or a sneak peek; she’ll let me in for good because I’ll have earned her implicit trust.

“We delivered the check yesterday to take pictures for PR or some shit that Navy’s making us do. She thinks if the general public associates the Sons with saving puppies, it’ll keep attention off the Ranch.”

“Navy’s smart,” she says, flipping the kitten on its back and tickling its belly.

“I guess. Just wish it didn’t involve me standing there holding a giant check and smiling like a tool.” I rest my arm on the back of the couch, my hand hovering just inches away from her body, craving the touch I’ve been denied all week. “Did you know they can’t even cash those things? They’re all for show. After the photo-op, Golden gave her the real check.”

“Did you really think people took four-foot-long checks to the bank?” She shakes her head and huffs. “Stop distracting me from getting an answer to my question. How did you end up with a kitten?”

I shrug. “His litter-mates all found homes, so he was all alone. I asked the lady why he hadn’t been adopted, and she said it’s because his tail is all curled and kinked.”

She picks him up to inspect the issue. “How did that happen?”

“Something about it being too crowded in the womb and his tail getting all curled up and never straightened. I don’t know.”

“And your first thought when you saw a lonely kitten with a birth defect was to adopt it and give it to me?”

“Well, yeah.” I smile sheepishly.

“Smart man.” She kisses the kitten right on the mouth, making me wish I was a damn feline.

---