Page 82 of Judge's Mercy

He runs a hand down his face. “I can’t deal with this right now. Tinleigh has been losing her mind trying to get to you, so I had to promise to text her the second you woke up. I’ll tell her to come over.”

“Where are you going?”

“For a ride.”

“Don’t leave me, Judge. Not now. Not right after all this. Everything else we can work out later.” Never did I think I’d beg a man for anything, but here I am. I’ve never loved anyone before, and it’s fucking with my head. That’s my excuse.

“Will you stop if I ask you?”

“Judge—”

“How can you expect me to be okay with you going out, night after night, not knowing if you’re hurt or been captured or worse, dead?” He shakes his head. “I can’t. You’ll never understand how it felt to see you run out those doors, bleeding, beaten, and out of your mind. It was horrifying, and I never want to experience that again.”

“So if you leave me, you automatically stop worrying about what I’m doing at night?”

“No, Myla. I’m always gonna fuckin’ worry about you, but ignorance is bliss, and I’d rather be ignorant to what you’re doing than pacing the floor, praying you’re okay.”

“Just let me see this through. Please.” I beg. “After that, it’ll be over, and we can move forward. I want that with you, Judge. I want a future with you.”

His nostrils flare, and his jaw ticks. “If you want it that badly, then you’ll at least consider stopping this before something worse happens that you don’t walk away from.”

“I did consider it, but I keep coming back to the girl I saw with no teeth. They forced her to be a drug addict and now use her body like she isn’t even a person. Deciding to quit would mean I’m just another person who let her down, and I can’t do that to her.”

“Then ask the club to intervene. Riot loves a good kill; I’m sure he’d do it.”

“What I hear you saying is you don’t trust me to handle my business, but you trust Riot?”

“Riot is a professional. Literally. Why wouldn’t I trust him to take care of it without getting hurt? It has nothing to do with gender and everything to do with experience.”

My frustration reaches a whole new level. I want to pull my hair out, shake the daylights out of him, and scream at the top of my lungs. Something, anything, to get this energy out. Why won’t he just listen to me?

“I’ve trained for this. I learned how to shoot, how to ride, and some self-defense. I’m prepared. I just need you to trust me.”

“And I need you to not put me in this situation. I’m telling you I can’t handle it.” He holds his hands out, palms up, wanting me to give in so badly. It breaks my heart that I can’t. This thing is bigger than Judge and me. “Please. For me. You don’t have to be a martyr.”

I bite my lower lip until I taste blood, knowing I’m giving up the best thing that ever happened to me for the sake of others, but they need someone on their side. Maybe it makes me a martyr, but I can’t turn my back on them. “I’m sorry, Judge. I just can’t.”

“Then I’m going for a ride. I’ll be back later.” He slams his bedroom door shut.

I close my eyes, pushing back the tears and the sob that wants to break free. I never should’ve allowed him in. All I wanted was to feel something other than rage, like passion, lust, and an orgasmic euphoria. I never expected to feel love or heartbreak. Had I known, I might’ve stuck with rage.

I allow one tear to spill down my cheek before sniffling and composing myself. There will be time for that later, when Tinleigh’s not around. I can’t hash this out with her right now. I’m physically, emotionally, and mentally drained. One thing I do need from her is a ride home. I’m not staying here just so Judge and I can have the same fight over and over. We said what we needed to say and there’s no compromising.

This thing between us is over.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

JUDGE

Having successfully avoided Cy for the entire day, I knew I was on borrowed time, so I sought him out. According to Dutch and Mustang, who were having a beer after a stressful day, Cy was at the Garage. It’s not surprising the man relaxes after a hard day of working on engines by working on engines.

Rocks crunch under my boots as I walk across the lot to the very first business the club owned. It’s not much to look at, but the reputation the shop has built over the years is one of honesty, fairness, and damn good mechanics. Its proximity to the clubhouse is an issue for some customers, but they can kick rocks because the shop stays busy without them.

I can smell the shop before I can see it. With the hot days of summer looming, the scent of motor oil and grease becomes thicker, almost as if you can taste it on your tongue when you inhale. It might be offensive to most, but ever since Cy welcomed me into the club, I’ve associated it with family.

A family I’m not sure I fit in with anymore, and fuck if that’s not a scary thought.

“You back here, Prez?” I call out.

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