Page 68 of Judge's Mercy

“Do you know who she was going after?” Rigger’s hands are balled in fists on the table.

“No. She never shared the list or her plans.” I admit defeatedly.

“Did you ever even ask?” Lucky throws out, his irritation growing.

“No. I knew that if I asked too many questions or pushed her too hard, she’d retreat and stop telling me anything at all. She didn’t want me to know any of it, and if I hadn’t shown up that night, I probably never would’ve found out.” My shoulders slump. “I was trying to be a good friend to her because she feels alone.”

“But she’s not alone. I’m literally her twin. Why didn’t she tell me?” Tinleigh’s tone is defensive and hurt. I don’t blame her, but I also don’t think she knew her sister very well.

“You’ll have to ask her that. What I do know is that she had this big, soul-crushing thing happen to her, and afterward, she saw everyone moving on while she was still hurting deeply. It made her feel like she couldn’t bother anyone with how affected she still was.” I meet Tinleigh’s gaze. “And I’m not trying to be mean here, but you’ve been busy lately.”

Her face falls while Lucky’s jaw ticks. I reckon I’m a few words away from getting my face rearranged, but it won’t stop me from coming clean with all of it. Well, most of it. Some things will stay private between Myla and me. Lucky reluctantly lets Tinleigh go when she moves toward me. I’m preparing for a slap, but instead, she wraps her arms around me in a tight hug.

“You’re right. I knew she was struggling, but for once, I just wanted to be happy.”

“And rightfully so. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve all the good,” I whisper.

She pulls away but takes my hands, fat tears rolling down her face. “Thank you for saying that, but it’s not true. Myla and I are bound by more than blood, and I had no right to move on when she was fighting to heal. It was selfish, and I’m grateful you were there for her.”

“Come here, baby.” Lucky pulls her away from me, wrapping her in his arms while she breaks down.

Satyr jogs back into the room, sitting back down and opening his laptop. “You said she got the list from clients we rejected?”

I move behind him, watching over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Okay. I can look for all the reports that have been run with that specific criteria, and. . . boom. Here is the exact report she printed.” He scoots his chair to the side so Cy, Rigger, and I can take a look. “Was she starting at the top and working her way down?”

“I don’t think so because”—I point to the fifth name on the list—“Johnathan Barlow was her second target, and she mentioned that she was only looking at locals.”

“Okay, so let’s remove all out-of-towners. That only gets rid of a couple names.” Satyr scoots back up to the table. “Give me a minute, and I’ll find out who met their maker lately. That’ll tell us who the first one was.”

Ten minutes later, we have the name of the first guy Myla killed. Satyr brings up the news articles about both of her victims and reads out the pertinent information for everyone to hear. “The first dude was stabbed like forty times while he was tied to his office chair. The authorities found a shit ton of kiddie porn on his computer. His murder is unsolved. The second dude had his carotid slit in a hallway at a nightclub. There were no cameras, and police have no leads, though they speculate it was self-defense because he had evidence of bruising on the back of his hand.”

“The bruises and split lip,” Tinleigh says.

“Yeah,” I admit.

“That only takes two more names off the list. If she’s in trouble, we don’t have time to hunt down every name on this list.” Rigger motions to the screen.

“Look for the ones with the worst allegations against women or children. That’s who she’d go after first,” Tinleigh suggests.

“Okay, give me a minute to look through the reasons we denied them.” Satyr dives back in, and everyone spreads out, talking amongst themselves. I stand in place, feeling helpless.

“After this is all over, we’re gonna have a talk, you and me,” Cy says, and I nod. “This shit is not okay. Do you have any fucking clue how badly this could’ve landed on the club?”

“I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” I no sooner have the words out before my head unexpectedly snaps to the side and pain blooms on my cheek.

“You should be fuckin’ sorry. Look around, Judge. Every single person in this room relies on this club thriving.” Cy shakes out his hand. “And you just spit in all of our faces.”

I blink and stretch my mouth wide, checking my face to see if anything is broken, but I don’t think it is. Which means he went easy on me because that man has broken more noses, jaws, and cheekbones than I can count.

“Still not sorry,” I say lowly.

Cy’s expression is incredulous as he stares me down, his hand still clenched into a fist. I don’t know why I didn’t just shut up. Maybe because I deserve the pain, or maybe it’s because I want someone else to know another truth I’ve been keeping secret.

“Fuck,” he says through a clenched jaw, understanding dawning on his face. “You love her. I didn’t see it before, but it’s clear as fuckin’ day now.”

I feel their accusatory gazes on me, but I keep my eyes trained on the floor, not admitting or denying anything. I’ve done enough damage for one day, and any assumptions they make are out of my control.

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