Page 37 of Judge's Mercy

Knowing the layout, it isn’t hard to spot Cory and the man he’s entertaining on one of the VIP balconies. I move to a spot on the dance floor that’s in his direct line of sight and close my eyes, allowing the music to flow through me. Dancing has been a part of my life since I could walk, so I easily move to the beat. After my stint at the Thirst Trap, I know exactly how to move to attract attention.

Not even one song passes before a man sidles up behind me and places his hands on my hips. He’s not bad-looking, so I smile and let him try to keep up, but it’s soon clear the only move he has is a hip thrust, and he dejectedly walks away. Peering up at the balcony, I catch Cory’s eye. He apparently saw the show and holds up a drink as if to toast to the man’s failure. I shoot him a flirty smile and continue to dance.

As expected, Cory has his eyes on me each time I peek up. Much like catching a fish, I have to lure him in. Make him want me. Then, once he’s close enough, he’ll be all mine.

After an hour of dancing, I’m sweaty and thirsty, so I weave through the crowd to the bar. The pink wig I have on itches, but I force myself not to scratch.

“What can I get you?” the female bartender asks.

“Just a bottle of water, please.”

“You got it.”

I open my crossbody clutch and pull out my phone while I wait, not surprised to find a text from Judge. Ever since our hookup, he’s been even more clingy, popping over to my apartment at all hours of the day and night. If it was any other man, I’d think he was looking for a booty call, but not Judge. The only reason he comes by is to convince me to give up my vigilante justice crusade, and then I not-so-politely decline and kick his ass out.

Where are you?

I roll my eyes, but unless I want him all up in my business, I have to answer.

Girls night out

With who?

Just a couple of my old co-workers from the ranch

It’s obviously a lie, but it’s one I know I can get away with because he knows nothing about the girls who work there.

Okay. Have fun

I position my phone for a selfie and snap a shot of me at the bar with my middle finger saluting him.

I will

Cute

With Judge satisfied that I’m not getting myself into trouble, I tuck my phone away just in time for the bartender to deliver my bottle of water. I hand her a ten-dollar bill and tell her to keep the change before turning toward the crowd. As I chug the water, I pretend to be taking everyone in. Without even looking up, I know his eyes are on me. I’m proven right when I give in and glance up.

I smile and look away, playing the role of the shy girl. Biting my lower lip, I lock eyes with him again, and I know I have him. He’s sitting on the edge of his seat, a glass of something brown held between his legs, and desire practically oozing from his pores. The escorts he hired appear to be annoyed that he’s paying them no mind; little do they know I’m doing them a favor.

Jerking my head in the direction I want him, I walk that way. Staying aware of potential camera footage, I keep my chin tucked and the fake pink hair down around my face to hide myself the best I can. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, making my heart pound in my chest. This is riskier than I’d like, and I almost chicken out, but then I remember the pictures of the women he harmed, and I get a boost of renewed confidence.

I don’t bother checking to see if he’s following because I can say with one hundred percent certainty that he is. Men like him are led by their stupid cocks. Even when I slip down a darkened corridor reserved for employees, I know he’ll find me.

I don’t walk very far in, knowing there’s a camera aimed toward the stock room, but as long as I stay within the first half of the space, I’m fine. Quickly, I lift my dress up and pull out the folding tactical knife I had strapped to my inner thigh. Flipping the blade out, I conceal it in my sweaty palm and drop my hands to my sides just in time for Cory to walk around the corner. He smirks as he approaches, rubbing his hands together like he thinks I’ll be his next meal.

Well, guess what, asshole? I’m the hunter, not the prey.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JUDGE

Myla’s lying. She’s been gearing up for another kill for days; I could feel the change in her energy. Tonight must be the night, and she’ll need someone there when she comes home—if she comes home. I shake that thought away because losing Myla is unfathomable. Mounting my bike, I shoot off a text to Sugar, letting her know I’ll be out for the night. Like the protective mom she is, she likes to know if we plan to stay out all night so she doesn’t worry. I shake my head as I put my phone away. I’m a forty-two-year-old man, yet I still check in with my mommy when I leave the house.

The days are starting to heat up, making riding uncomfortable, but living in the high desert means cooler nights and right now, I’m thankful for it. To me, this is the best place in the world to live. I feel like I have a right to make that judgment since my studies have taken me all over the world. Still, I always come back to Reno. Even if I hadn’t found the Sons, I’d still probably live here.

It may be dark, but the heat that the asphalt absorbed during the day still radiates, warming my legs as I ride out to Myla’s apartment. There aren’t a lot of cars on the road since it’s too late for a meal and too early for the clubs and bars to let out, making it a faster-than-normal trip. I choose a parking spot around the corner from her place, hoping she doesn’t see it, and when I get to her door, I type in the code and let myself in.

Not wanting to alert her to my presence, I keep the lights off and settle on her sofa, perfectly content to be alone with my thoughts for however long it takes for her to get home. Straightening my spine, I rest my hands on my knees and quiet my mind, focusing on my breath. An image of the way Myla looked spread out on her bed with my face between her thighs crosses my mind, and I push it away. But being in her space, with her complex jasmine perfume invading my nose, makes it nearly impossible.

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