Page 79 of Judge's Mercy

“Right,” Rigger says and takes his leave. “You better make it quick, though, because Lucky’s blowing up my goddamn phone, telling me he can’t contain Tinleigh much longer.”

“When you’re ready, I’m gonna need you at church,” Cy says with a hand clamped on my shoulder. His fingers skim my scars unknowingly, and the touch burns, making my skin itch. I tolerate it, though, because it’s nothing compared to what my girl is going through.

“Okay. After she wakes up.”

He nods and walks out the front door where Rigger disappeared.

“No broken ribs. Her tummy feels normal. She’s got some nasty abrasions on her backside, but I don’t want to look any further. You can call Monroe for that if she needs it,” he says, referencing the gynecologist over at the Honey Pot as he covers her back up. “She’ll be okay, brother. Swear to God.” He pulls out some gauze, antiseptic, and bandages. “After I pop a stitch or two into that gash on her head, I’ll just get some of these deeper scratches cleaned out and her fingernails taken care of, and then it’s just a waiting game. Why don’t you wipe off some of this dirt and blood?”

“Yeah. Good idea.” I wet warm washcloths and gently clean her up while Bones works. Cringing, I watch as he carefully plucks a couple of her nails off that were barely hanging on before he bandages each finger up. Once that’s done, he cleans the worst of her wounds, putting even more bandages over them and giving me instructions on care.

A half-hour later, he cleans up before stretching his back. “Now that she’s good and doesn’t need me, I’m going to go smoke a fatty and try not to think about what or who could’ve done this to her.”

“Thank you, brother.”

“All good.” We bump knuckles, and he walks away, belting out the lyrics to a Rusted Root song like the damn hippie he is.

Sugar takes it upon herself to clean up the floor and get rid of all the used gauze and trash Bones left on the table. It’s just another reason this club wouldn’t be shit without her. It’s the least glamorous job to ever exist, but she never complains, at least to our faces. She has a group of friends she gets on with on the weekend. Maybe she bitches to them.

Taking a seat, I rest my elbow on the table next to Myla and hold my head in my hands. All my worries about her high-risk behavior came true today. Well, not all of them because she’s still alive. Will this be the wake-up call she needs to let the list go? If not, can I stick around not knowing if she’ll make it home each night? Because right now, looking at her ashen face with drool dripping down her cheek, I don’t know if I can go through this again.

“How about we get some clothes on her and move her somewhere more comfortable? Somewhere she feels safe. She won’t want to wake up like this,” Sugar suggests.

“Yeah, okay.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MYLA

Iwake with a start, flailing my arms out and kicking as hard as I can. I don’t remember why I’m scared, but there’s no question that I need to protect myself.

“Shh, Myla, you’re safe.” A hand rests on my shoulder and I rear back, throwing a punch in that direction. A minute too late, the voice registers. It’s Judge. He curses through a groan, and I settle my limbs as I look around. I’m in Judge’s room, in Judge’s bed. I’m so confused, and fuck me, my head hurts.

The curtains are drawn, and with only one lamp on, the room is dim and smells just like the biker I adore. I roll to my side, and he’s right there, lying on his side next to me. His hand is cupping his nose, and his eyes are squeezed tight. I know I should apologize, but I’m too happy to see him.

“Oh my god, what happened to your eye?”

“Just give me a sec.” He blinks and pinches the bridge of his nose.

I reach out to touch him, but my hand freezes mid-air at the sight of my bandaged fingers. “What the?—?”

“It’s okay. Bones said you might wake up confused, but the important thing to know is that you’re safe.”

“What—? Why—? I don’t understand.” Looking at my arm, I see there’s another bandage around my upper arm. “Jesus. Judge, what happened?”

“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but everything’s okay. What’s the last thing you remember?”

My eyes track side to side as I try to think back. “You got me a kitten.”

“I did. The next day, you said you had plans. Do you remember?”

I remember waking up with a warm and sleepy fur ball tucked up against my neck. After that, I had a chill day because I didn’t want to leave Ryder alone. That’s where it starts to get fuzzy. I remember showering and getting dressed. Then I got my suitcase out because I needed a gun and a knife. I was moving to the third name on my list.

Glancing over at Judge, I frown, my face pinching and tears threatening to fall as bits and pieces come back to me. “I was hiding in the closet. The girl was high, and I told her I was going to save her, but she ratted me out because she didn’t want her drugs to go away.”

Judge wipes away a few stray tears. “Do you remember what happened after that?”

“He pushed me down the stairs.” I carefully touch the back of my head, feeling a tender bump before moving to my arm, pulling up the sleeve of a T-shirt I didn’t put on to expose my rewrapped shoulder . “Then he shot me with my own gun.”

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