Page 67 of Judge's Mercy

“If you can.”

“On it.”

“And Lucky? You better loop Tinleigh in on this one.”

“Fuck,” he says before the line goes dead.

After making sure Ryder has everything he needs for the night, I lock up and hop on my bike. The ride seems to take forever, each second like an eternity as my mind spins with possibilities. I don’t know if this is the right decision, betraying the confidence of the woman I love, and it feels all kinds of wrong.

Damn her for putting me in this situation. I knew it would backfire, yet I still kept her secrets. Now, I have to stand in front of my family and tell them I violated rule number fucking one: the club comes first. If I make it out of this conversation with my life and my cut, I’ll be lucky. Not that either of those mean shit if something has happened to Myla. I’d gladly give up both if it meant she was alive and well.

I feel like fucking puking as I pull into the parking lot. Thankfully, it wasn’t a party night, so there aren’t a bunch of hangarounds to kick out. Before I go inside, I try calling Myla one last time. Like every other call, it goes right to voicemail. I stomp my boot into the gravel like a child, squeezing my cell so tight, I think I hear a crack. Fuck.

As I enter the clubhouse, my brothers form a solid wall in front of me. Their tense expressions and tightly crossed arms tell me they’re ready for action. I can’t meet their eyes as I move past them. My eyes land on Tinleigh sitting at the bar, surrounded by Char, Navy, and Jenson. A feeling of dread settles in my stomach, knowing I’m about to disappoint everyone in this room.

“Wanna tell us what this is about?” Cy’s stance is wide, his hands on his hips.

“It’s a long story. Why don’t you all take a seat?”

Grumbling, everyone pulls out one of the chairs tucked into the dining tables. Well, everyone but Cy. No one tells Prez what to do, and this was my reminder that I’m not in charge here. I feel the weight of his stare and swallow hard, my palms sweating and pressure building in my head.

“You all know I’ve been looking out for Myla,” I say. The second Tinleigh hears her sister’s name, she’s on her feet and moving closer. Lucky holds out a hand and brings her to stand between his legs, his hands protectively on her hips. “It’s no secret that she hasn’t been doing well since the incident.”

“You’re killing me, kid. Spit it out,” Cy says. He’s only ten or so years older than me, but to him, I’ve always been the kid he found fixing the pews in that church all those years ago.

“She was looking for a way to deal with all the things going on up here.” I tap my temple. “I swear, I didn’t know what she was going to do, and I only found out because I showed up to her place one night—just to check on her—and found her covered in blood.”

“What?” Tinleigh gasps out, clutching her throat.

“You better explain fast,” Lucky says, pulling Tinleigh onto his lap.

“She couldn’t get revenge on the men who took her since they’re all dead or in prison, so she decided to get revenge by killing other men she knew were just as bad.”

“How’d she do that?” Rigger asks.

“She tricked you into giving her a job working security at the Honey Pot. She wanted access to the database of clients you’ve turned away so she could compile a “kill list.” Then, she started working through it one by one, taking each man out.”

“You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that.” Tinleigh’s eyes well with tears, and I hate myself for hurting my friend.

“I’m sorry.” I take two steps toward her, wanting to make this right, but the look on Lucky’s face stops me in my tracks. “She promised me that she just needed six months, then she would come clean, and stupidly, I agreed.”

“Why?” Cy asks.

“Why, what?”

“You forget I know you inside and out, and you aren’t one to lie or keep secrets, so there has to be a reason. Tell. Me. Why.”

Because I was so focused on Myla, I didn’t anticipate it leading back to my own secrets. I stutter, feeling like the world is closing in on me. With Myla sharing the weight of our betrayals, keeping our secrets was manageable, but without her, I can’t do it.

“He will,” Bones says. “Just not right now. We should focus on why we were all dragged out of bed.”

I give him a nod and, in this moment, I’m so fucking glad I told him when I did so I have someone on my side. “Tonight would’ve been her third time. . . doing this. . . but she’s been gone eight hours now, and I have a feeling something happened.”

“By ‘doing this,’ you mean she was planning on killing someone off that list?” Satyr asks.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right back.” He jumps up, no doubt running to grab his laptop from his cabin.

---