Chapter 26 Jagger
JAGGER
You’ve gotta be kidding me.
“Seriously?” Ford groans from the back seat as I pull into the driveway.
“If he scratched Hawke’s bike, he’s gonna kill him,” I mutter. Parked dangerously close to Hawke’s bike is a familiar black Harley belonging to our one and only uncle.
Ford laughs. “If he scratched Hawke’s bike, he’s already dead.”
My baby brother has a point. If Hawke’s bike is here, it means Hawke’s already inside. Alone. With our dear ol’ uncle. I almost feel sorry for the bastard, and I definitely feel sorry for my brother.
Turning off my truck’s engine, I rest my wrist on the steering wheel and sigh. “Think he knows?”
“Timing says he might,” Roman grumbles. “Want me to hang out here while you guys deal with him?”
“Nah.” I shake my head and reach for the door handle. “If he wants to ambush us, he can’t expect privacy.”
Together, we head inside, finding my uncle in a wingback chair next to a crackling fire with Hawke on the sofa opposite of him.
“See you’ve made yourself at home,” I note.
Judge glances toward us and smiles. “Figured I might as well. It’s getting cold on the bike. Thought I’d warm up a bit.” His attention catches on Roman. “Hey, Rome.”
“Roman,” my best friend corrects him. “Hello, Judge. Good to see you.”
Sensing Roman’s sarcasm, Judge smirks back at him. “You, too.”
“How was the concert?” Roman adds.
Judge’s mouth lifts even more, but he doesn’t answer him.
Yeah, Uncle. We’re watching you, too.
“Hey, Unc.” Ford squeezes Judge’s shoulder, then collapses onto the sofa beside Hawke. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Daddy Dearest riding your ass again?”
“Like always,” Judge returns. “How have you boys been?” He cocks his head. “Have a nice weekend? Do anything…interesting?”
Subtle, Judge. Really subtle.
“Nothing much,” I deflect.
“You sure? I mean, it’s Halloween. You guys are too young to stay at home and pass out candy, aren’t you?”
“Nah, Jagger’s right. It was…” Ford covers his yawn with his hand. “Really boring, actually.”
Judge’s mouth curves up. “You haven’t heard anything about a guy’s house being broken into, have you? Over in The Drift?”
Well, shit. I figured he knew about the carnival games, but Violet’s dad? Apparently, we don’t give Judge enough credit.
Exchanging a quick glance with me, Ford, and Roman, Hawke says, “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, it was crazy,” Judge continues. “He was seen at the old carnival grounds. Lost a bet. Lost his shit. Was escorted from the premises by a guy who, coincidentally, looked just like you, Rome.”
The muscle beneath Roman’s right eye jumps, but he stays quiet, smart enough not to take the bait.
“Crazy,” I offer dryly, tossing his own words back at him.
“It doesn’t end there, either,” Judge adds. “Someone saw a cherry red Raptor visiting his place and cleaning out his house a few hours later. Strange, isn’t it?”
So he did send someone to spy on us. Interesting.
Hands in my pockets, I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. Very strange.”
“I’m sure he had it comin’, too. Probably lost a few bets. Couldn’t pay up. So whoever it was, they had no choice, you know?” Judge rattles on. “Gotta get your hands dirty every once in a while if you’re running an underground gambling ring, am I right?”
“We wouldn’t know,” Ford returns. “But it’s nice you stopped by—”
“Did you hear about his daughter, too?” Judge continues as if his youngest nephew hadn’t spoken at all, and I swear the stupid organ in my chest stalls out completely.
“I know you got your, uh,” Judge scratches his jaw, hiding his mirth as he meets my stare, “sexual appetite from the Harden side, but…” His smirk falls, swallowed up by brevity.
“You’re not one to have sleepovers. Are you, Jag? ”
“Must’ve passed out,” I offer.
His eyes thin as if he doesn’t believe me, even if his words hint at the opposite. “With Virgil Reeves’ daughter in your bed? Talk about bad timing. For you, not her,” he adds. “At least she wasn’t at the house when it was raided. That could’ve been messy, right?”
“And why is it bad news for me?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Shit.
I shouldn’t have said anything. But now, it’s too late.
Well aware he has me exactly where he wants me, Judge says, “Because if I can piece together how she came into a good chunk of change during last night’s event, and her father happens to be the same guy who had the shit kicked out of him this morning, I dunno?
It might, uh, it might look bad for your business. ”
A muscle in my jaw jumps, but I don’t take the bait. Not again. “What business?”
And just like that, the facade drops, and Judge scoffs. “You know, the sooner you start trusting me, the sooner I can get the hell out of here.”
“Or you could grow a pair and tell your brother to go to Hell,” Ford offers. “We do it all the time.”
Judge sobers. “Yeah, and look where it got you.”
“Growing a business and kicking ass?” Ford volleys. He threads his hands behind his head. “Yeah, it’s a real bitch.”
Judge scoffs. “What business?”
Damn. Two mistakes in one conversation. Guess it’s what we get for pulling an all-nighter. We definitely need some sleep before we tell him how our entire organization is run.
“He already took our trust funds,” Hawke reminds him.
“You’re right, he did. But he has the power to take away a lot more. He and Gus both do,” Judge warns.
“Two sides of the same coin, am I right?” Ford offers.
“Ain’t that the truth.” Judge laughs again, but there’s little humor in it. “You remember Rudy, right? My old bandmate?”
Hawke’s gaze narrows. “What about him, Judge?”
“Did a lot less and lost his life.”
“Did a lot less than what?” I challenge.
“Than stepping on toes, tarnishing the family name, and making deals with scum like Gus Toro.”
My gaze narrows. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t because you don’t listen,” he growls. “Neither did I. And neither did Rudy.”
It’s a tale as old as time, like in the old Disney movie, Beauty and the Beast. My father enjoyed embellishing certain parts.
Like how Rudy was jumped at The Pelican right when IndieCent Vows, Judge’s band, was finally gaining some traction in the music world.
Okay, jumped is a bit of a stretch. Apparently, my uncle was running his mouth to some lowlifes from The Drift who didn’t appreciate the man’s candor, so they threw the first punch, Rudy jumped in to defend Judge, things got out of hand, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Bored, Ford pulls out his phone and starts a game of Candy Crush, muttering, “We know about the brawl, old man.”
“Bet you don’t know the reason behind the brawl, though. Do you?”
“We’ve heard that one, too,” Hawke interjects. “Tight Ass has had no issue giving us all the details—”
“Because your father’s such an honest man,” Judge replies.
My ears perk. Is he hinting there’s more to the story?
It wouldn’t shock me. Not really. Between the way my family tiptoes around all things The Drift, and my uncle’s sudden appearance after my dad caught us behind enemy lines one too many times, I always assumed we were being left in the dark for one reason or another.
Hearing I might be right is vindicating to say the least. Actually receiving confirmation, however, feels like a lost cause. Even so, I can’t help myself.
“Okay, Judge,” I return. “Why don’t you fill us in?”
“Your dad has worked very hard to keep Harden Heights separate from The Drift. Do you know why?”
“Do you?” Roman interjects. The man’s usually so quiet, most forget he’s there unless he wants to be seen. The fact he interrupted my uncle? He must really care or been so wrapped up in the conversation he forgot who he was speaking to.
Judge hesitates, eyeing Roman warily as if realizing the same thing. Hardens aren’t the only ones in the room. At least, not blood-related Hardens. “It’s family business,” Judge mutters.
With a scoff, Roman turns on his heel. “I’ll see myself out—”
“Don’t bother,” Judge decides. “For now, I think it’s best if you lie low for a bit. You know, until you get your heads out of your asses and you figure out you’re playing with fire…from both ends.” He stands, wiping his palms against his thighs. “See you at the banquet.”
Then, he walks away.
As the front door clicks closed, Roman mutters, “Well, that was a lot of nothing.”
“I dunno, I got a thing or two out of it,” Ford decides.
“What do you think he meant?” Hawke questions. “About Tight Ass doing his best to keep Harden Heights and The Drift as separate as possible?”
“You mean, other than his aversion to poor people?” Roman jokes.
Ford chuckles. “Yeah, it’s a real shocker.”
“At least it’s one thing that’s not genetic,” Hawke adds dryly. “Maybe there’s hope for us after all.”
“Nah, I wouldn’t go that far,” Ford quips. “Speaking of poor people, though.” He turns his stare to me. “I think it’s probably smart if we address the elephant in the room one more time.”
Feeling an impending headache take hold, I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “What is it?”
“You gonna stay away from Violet?” Hawke questions.
I drop my hand. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You heard him,” Ford pushes. “If Judge can piece together what happened in the haunted house, then others can, too.”
“We already had this conversation–”
“Listen,” Ford snaps. “I know you said no one would question you without proof, but I want you to do us a favor. I think you owe it to us after we covered for you, lost a night of sleep, and helped Violet move into her new place.”
The asshole’s right. They’ve done more for me in the last twelve hours than I deserve. The least I can do is hear them out. “What kind of favor?” I mutter.
“Give us the three weeks we discussed after the haunted house and before she showed up on our doorstep,” Ford requests. “Lie low for that long, then you and Vi can ride off into the sunset and screw each other’s brains out. All right?”
I open my mouth to tell him to mind his own business, but close it just as quickly. After last night, then this morning, the idea of keeping my distance from Violet is…unpleasant at best. But so was Judge’s warning.
“Jag?” Hawke prods.
“Okay,” I cave. “Okay, I’ll give it three weeks. Let shit blow over. Someone else from The Drift will get jumped, we’ll have another Harden Night, and this weekend will be nothing but a blip on everyone’s radar. Deal?”
With a nod, Ford pushes to his feet and strides closer, patting my shoulder. “Thanks, man.”