Page 3 of Judge's Mercy

He purses his lips, nodding. “I get that.”

“Besides, after working here for as long as I did, I can recognize things you guys might miss. My spidey senses can spot an asshole from a mile away.” I give him a wink before walking out, shutting the door behind me.

The faint sound of music coming from the bar fills the otherwise-silent hallway. Muscle memory takes me in that direction, but then realization stops me dead in my tracks. There’s nothing there for me anymore. I could go say hi to my old co-workers and friends, but I don’t have the mental or emotional capacity for their pitying looks and concerned questions. They mean well, but I’m sick of being treated like a victim. I just want to have a normal conversation with someone for once. But not even my own sister can give me that these days.

I turn away from the music, away from the people, and straight toward the exit. Wanting to be alone is new for me. Growing up, Tinleigh was the outcast. She was unable to hide her feelings about the church and therefore ostracized. Conflict made me uncomfortable, so I played the role of a dutiful daughter. I was a people pleaser and thrived on the attention that gave me. Now Tinleigh is the one living at the clubhouse, surrounded by people who care about her, and I’m on the outside.

My head is swimming as I walk through the parking lot and slip behind the wheel of the car that I used to be proud to drive. After leaving home at eighteen with nothing, it felt good to walk into a dealership only three years later and pay outright for my black convertible Mini Cooper. How many women can say that?

Now, I feel nothing but fury no matter where I am or what I’m doing, and if I’m not careful to keep my mind busy, I slip into memories and the madness takes over. That’s why I came up with this plan. It gave me something to focus on with a high-value reward, and it’s the only thing that’s keeping me alive. Without it, I don’t know what I’d do.

Step one is to get a job in security, and though it’s not a sure thing, I’m confident the Sons will give me anything I ask for right now. The old me wouldn’t use their sympathy against them, but the new me is taking every advantage I have to accomplish my ultimate goal: vengeance.

Since I can’t work on step two until I’m in that security room, the rest of my day is open, making me anxious as I drive the thirty minutes to my apartment complex. That is until I see a familiar man leaning against his motorcycle parked in the spot next to my designated one. His arms are folded across his chest, his head is tipped down, and his eyes are closed as though he’s taking a nap.

What the hell?

It’s not that I don’t like Judge. Of all the Sons, he’s been the least annoying. However, that might be because he’s quiet and doesn’t offer unwanted opinions. I still don’t want him popping by unannounced, though. Which is why I lay on my horn as I pull into my spot, startling him for a second before a soft smile crosses his lips, making little wrinkles appear in the corners of his eyes.

For an older man, I can’t deny he’s handsome. When I first met him, he kept his light brown hair shorter and slicked back, and his beard was trimmed and tidy. The neatness of his appearance and the clerical collar were comically contradictory to his leather cut. I don’t know what changed, but his hair hasn’t seen a pair of clippers in what appears to be weeks, and his beard is hiding his sharp jawline.

I actually prefer this version of him—it suits him. Not that my opinion means jack-shit to the guy, and I don’t want it to either. I’m twenty-one, almost twenty-two, and I’ve yet to meet a man who hasn’t used and abused me. It’s time I got smart and stayed the hell away from the lot of them.

Judge has my door open before I can even shift into park. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks,” I reply weakly, reaching for my purse. “Your turn to babysit or something?”

“Or something.”

Swinging my legs out of the car, I realize just how short my skirt is and glance up to see Judge’s gaze locked on my bare thighs. Along with my car, my time working at the ranch afforded me the freedom to explore fashion, something I didn’t have growing up in the ultra-conservative household I was born into. So naturally, my wardrobe now consists of everything my parents would hate: short skirts, low-cut tops, and heels so high, my daddy would have a coronary.

I used to love how powerful my new clothes made me feel, as if gaining and keeping a man’s attention was something worth having. Now, I just want to throw them all away and wear things that allow me to blend into the background. Maybe that’s what I’ll do next. I’ll donate my closet and invest in sweats.

I clear my throat and adjust my skirt as I stand. “Well, you can report to your superiors that I’m home and plan to stay that way for the rest of the night.”

“That’s good, but I was hoping for a chat.” He follows me to my building and up three flights of stairs to my front door.

“Chat about what?” I ask, not bothering to block his view as I punch in the lock code. All of the Sons have access to my place, thanks to my sister, who still isn’t convinced I should be living alone so soon after being kidnapped, beaten, and splooged on by a group of dickheads. Oh, and I can’t forget getting thrown out of a moving vehicle.

“Nothin’ in particular. Just had some time and wanted to spend it with you.” He peers down at me through his lashes, looking vulnerable and kind. I’d roll my eyes if I didn’t know this isn’t an act. Judge doesn’t have the ability to lie or manipulate. He’s honest and selfless to a fault, and it fucking infuriates me for reasons I don’t understand.

I sigh as I motion for him to enter. “Come on in then.”

His smile widens, and it’s so pure, my hand itches to smack him. “Thanks.”

I set my keys and purse down on the half-wall that separates the living area from the kitchen. My apartment is nothing special, but it’s clean and in a good neighborhood, two things that were important to me after living in a shit-hole with Tinleigh when we first moved to Reno.

“Whatcha been up to?” Judge asks, making himself comfortable on my sofa.

Walking into the kitchen, I open the fridge and reach for two bottles of water. “I’m just getting back from the ranch.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I had to talk to Lucky about something.” I hand him the water and sit next to him.

“Anything I might be able to help with?”

“I was asking him for a job.”

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