Page 64 of Judge's Mercy

“She doesn’t shave.” He lowers his voice. “Anywhere.”

“Anywhere?”

“Nope, but it’s fine. I’m saving money on dental floss.”

It takes me a minute to catch his meaning, and then I wince. “Fuckin’ sick, brother. I didn’t need to know that.”

“You asked.”

“I wish I didn’t.”

He chuckles before kicking back again. “Why are you really here?”

“I’ve been spending a lot of time with Myla. We’ve gotten close, you know?”

“You fucked her. I knew it. Satyr owes me a C-note.”

“You bet on me sleeping with Myla?”

“Hells yeah.”

I shake my head, irritated but not wanting to get sidetracked. “Anyway, she shared a bunch of shit with me that brought up some of my own shit. It’s been good, you know? I didn’t realize I still had stuff bothering me from when I was a kid.”

He sobers up, taking the conversation seriously now. “Oh yeah? You never talk about anything that happened before you joined the club. It’s good she’s been there for you like that.”

“I agree.” I rest my forearms on my thighs, looking down at my shoes. “She made me realize that maybe I need to talk about it more. Like, with you guys and stuff.”

“Yeah, man. You’re my brother; you should be able to tell me anything.” He moves to the sofa next to me. “I knew your childhood must’ve been bad if you not only avoided it but refused to say a word about it.”

“It was bad, and if you have some time right now, I think you should know.” It feels so fucking awkward to talk like this, but not because none of us share how we grew up or other personal stuff. It’s just, that’s usually discussed while having drinks at the clubhouse and with an edge of humor. There’s nothing funny about what I’m about to tell him, though.

“I got all the time in the world for you, brother.”

For the next hour, I opened up to someone for the second time, sharing all the trauma and abuse from my childhood and how I’ve been coping with the sins of the club. I tell him everything except what I’ve done with Myla behind closed doors. That’s no one’s business but our own. By the time I leave Dope that night, I’m exhausted but relieved as hell. Doc wasn’t mad I kept this secret for so long, and he vowed to be there with me when I told the rest of the club.

I drive home feeling proud of myself. This isn’t something I thought I’d ever do; it felt too big, too embarrassing, and too risky, but Myla was right. They deserved to know.

That woman is good for me in so many ways. There’s no way I’ll ever let her go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MYLA

Ipark my bike around the corner from the house. It’s not late enough to be dark out, but it’s the only time I can get to David Grace without witnesses. Even here, he’s not alone. There’s a woman who appears to watch over the girls and do the bare minimum to keep them alive, and then there are the girls themselves. If I can’t get David alone, I’m counting on everyone else being too out of it to know what’s going on. It’s a worthwhile risk.

Creeping around to the side of the house, I push open the same window I climbed through a few days ago. The room was empty then, but today, it’s occupied by the girl David thinks he’s going to violate. Pushing myself up, I swing a leg through the window and shift my weight until my foot reaches the floor. I sweep the room with my eyes, making sure nothing is amiss, and find that everything is just how I anticipated.

The girl is already dressed in what looks like a communion dress, complete with lace gloves and a veil. Fuck me, I didn’t think this guy could get any more twisted. I was wrong. She belatedly lifts her head from the pillow since I’ve been in the room for nearly a minute already.

“Who are you?” she asks, her speech slurred and her eyes unfocused.

I hold a finger to my lips, hoping she’ll comply. Thankfully, she says nothing as I creep over to the closet to hide. My plan relies on a surprise attack, so I breathe a sigh of relief when I see her lay her head back down. Closing the bi-fold doors, I hide amidst frilly dresses styled for toddlers and kindergarteners but in larger sizes. Bile rises in my throat, thinking about why these dresses are here.

Time seems to drag on, each minute feeling like an eternity as I question my actions. Did I make a mistake? I only observed him for a week, and there’s a possibility that his routine may not be the same each week. I push away all the doubts, though, because there’s no room for them now. That girl in there wouldn’t be dressed like that if something wasn’t about to happen.

The anticipation of watching the blood drain from his body has consumed my thoughts ever since I found out about this place. If this doesn’t go according to plan, it will be more than a disappointment—it will feel like a crushing defeat.

A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, causing my fingers to twitch and my heart to thud loudly in my chest. Excitement consumes me as I mentally prepare for what I’m about to do. The rush of power and control that comes before a kill is addictive, overriding any nerves or doubts that may linger. In this moment, I feel like I hold all the power in the world, untouchable and unstoppable.

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