Chapter 3
Judge
There was a time I found it irritating, the way Ripper shadowed me like a loyal dog. Now, the silence he leaves behind is a damn nuisance. Hunting him down isn’t the worst part; it’s the gnawing void it creates, the loneliness it presents.
I don’t linger in the bar long with my search. Not with the twin sisters standing side by side, a united front that feels impossible to approach. Penelope needs space after our… conversation.
What is she telling Raven? Probably not the truth. One thing I know about Pen is that she hoards her worries like bullets, never wanting her sister to load up on her account.
And Raven? She’s the most protective creature I’ve ever met. If she knew I was the one who made Penelope’s breath hitch with panic, she’d carve the apology out of my hide.
Either way, I’m already twisted up enough on the inside. I’d hand her a gun instead of a knife.
My VP is nowhere in the common areas, so I head toward the hall of rooms used by the members. The air is still and quiet, the kind of silence that feels like a held breath. Until I reach Ripper’s door.
My knuckles are an inch from the wood when I hear it—a low, masculine rumble followed by a feminine gasp that dissolves into a soft, giggling moan. The sound doesn’t just stop me; it seeps through my veins.
Fucking hell. They’re still going at it?
A bitter taste floods my mouth. The image forms, unbidden and unwanted. Ripper, tangled in his old lady, nothing but skin and satisfaction. Nothing is holding him back from enjoying himself with the woman he calls his own.
The jealousy floods instantly, making me even more agitated. It fuels the hammer of my fist against the door, the blow sharp enough to splinter the quiet. The gasp from the other side is satisfying, a tiny retaliation.
“We need to chat.” I don’t wait for a response.
Pulling back, I storm toward his favorite spot, the one we use when it’s just us brothers.
The air in the lounge is thick with the smell of old leather and stale cigarette smoke.
I can’t sit. Pacing the carpeted floor, I try to keep my mind clear, but it’s a losing battle.
It keeps snagging on the woman I almost made cry.
Ripper takes five damn minutes to join me.
When he does, his entire appearance is thrown together—shirt untucked, hair a mess—but he wears it like a crown.
A relaxed, sated grin plays on his lips, and his eyes hold a warmth I haven’t felt in years.
He’s radiant, glowing with the kind of peace that comes from a claim staked and honored.
While I’m scowling in the shadows, he’s standing in utter, uncomplicated bliss.
Good for him, I guess.
Throwing himself against the couch, he watches my frantic pacing like a hawk. The springs groan in protest, a sound swallowed by the thick tension. “Something happened.”
Obviously. The word is a bitter pill on my tongue, but I swallow it. My silence is confirmation enough.
“I need to hit something.” The thought escapes, raw and honest.
Ripper just grins, a flash of white in the dim light. He’s been all teeth lately, a Cheshire cat with a busted lip and a black eye—trophies from going against me.
“I’ll give you one swing. Haven will kiss it better for me.” He tilts his head, the picture of casual insolence. “But before you make me prettier, want to tell me what happened? You look like you want to kill something. No offense, Prez, I don’t want Grim scraping me off the floor.”
My nostrils flare. I point my glare at the water-stained ceiling tiles, as if the answers are written there. “I scared Pen.”
He sobers instantly, the grin vanishing as he chews on his next words. “Is she alright?”
“Made her think about bad things.” I stretch my neck, and the crack is a gunshot in the quiet room. “Can’t hit myself, so I need to hit something else. Something that’ll break.”
Ripper laughs, and the sound grates against my raw nerves. Maybe he wasn’t the right person for this. Then again, who else would understand this festering rot inside me? Who else has seen the man I was before?
“First off, I’m revoking my offer.” He sighs, stretching out. His boots, scuffed and dirty, land on the low table with a thud. “Second, that ‘bad’ thing was taken care of years ago. If you just told her, she wouldn’t be scared.”
I don’t think that’s how trauma works, but Ripper’s one of my brothers who has far too many issues himself, so I don’t bother correcting him.
Raven doesn’t want her to know. I don’t want her to, either.
The thought is a vice around my lungs. Not without risking her looking at me like she had earlier—like I was a monster from her past. I changed my entire person for her, built a new man from the ashes of the old one, and she doesn’t even know. All to avoid scaring her.
Seven years. They’ve been under our care for seven years, and I’ve finally done it. I dragged her back into the dark.
“I know what I want to hit.” The decision is sudden, final. Reaching into my pocket, I feel the crisp fold of the note. I pull it out and throw it at him, a white bird of ill omen. “He left us a love letter.”
He unfolds it, his eyes scanning the words without a flicker of surprise. “Huh. So Barker’s her last name. Think she’d like mine, better?”
A fresh wave of fury washes over me. Okay, I want to hit two things.
“He came here. Here. Our home.” I’m seething, my fingers clenching and unclenching as I pace faster. “He wrote this list to let us know what he plans on doing. He’s going to take them, even your precious spy.”
Ripper doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t rise to meet my fury. He just sits there, infuriatingly calm, and I can’t stand it. I can’t be the only one whose blood is singing for vengeance.
“Prez…” He drags the title out, a lazy taunt, before crumpling the note and tossing it into the far corner. “I just need to get something off my chest first. I. Told. You. So.”
Blood rushes in my ears, a roaring tide. I’m on him in four long strides, my fist twisted in the soft cotton of his shirt, yanking him forward. The fabric strains, and I can feel the solid warmth of his chest.
He laughs again, the fucking lunatic. Despite my knuckles pressing against his throat, his eyes shine with genuine amusement. “You should see yourself,” he chokes out, a grotesque smile on his face. “It’s beautiful.”
Releasing him is a physical effort. He drops back against the couch with a grunt, rubbing his neck. A guttural growl rips from my chest. “You like setting me off. Every chance you get.”
“I like seeing the man you used to be,” he corrects, his gaze sharp, cutting through the bullshit. “Samuel.”
I fucking hate that name. It’s a reminder of who I left behind.
He holds up his hands in mock surrender as my fists tighten again. “Okay, I’ve poked you enough. Judge. This is perfect. Can’t you see?”
The only thing I’m seeing is a red haze. “Please. Tell me what is going on in that head of yours.”
Ripper settles back, his hands flattening together as if in prayer. “Well, we have two paths we can go down.”
“If you breathe Penelope’s name again, or anyone on that paper, they’re going to be your last words.” The threat is low, deadly serious. I already feel the phantom crack of his jaw against my knuckles.
He sniffs, considering it. “Right. One path. Anyway. Blaze is going to have his head so far up his ass, he won’t think we’ll have the courage to hit him head-on. After that piece of paper and the arson, he assumes we’re running around with our heads cut off.”
I grunt, forcing air into my lungs, trying to steady myself. “I told everyone to enjoy themselves. He won’t like seeing nothing happening.”
“Ah… Right.” His smile falters, a crack in the facade as he thinks. “We could wait until he makes another move. No one around here knows what he looks like. If he tries something else, we could capture and torture him. That sounds kind of fun.”
I can’t rely on if. I need certainty. I need his blood on my hands.
“Letting him slip in once was enough of a risk. I won’t let him get near Penelope again.” Near anyone, but the unspoken part hangs between us, the specific, frantic need to protect her.
“Hey, this is your chance to glue yourself to her side. You sure you don’t want to take it?” That knowing, infuriating smile is back.
“Ripper? In all of the years we’ve known each other, how have I not killed you?” The question is weary, leaving me like a sigh. But I already know the answer. It’s the same thing that stops me every time he pushes me to the edge.
He frowns as I rub the spot over my chest, the old ache flaring. “It’s because you’d die a lonely old man without me.”
We haven’t even hit our forties yet.
“I want to kill him. That’s our only option.” The fight drains out of me, leaving a cold, hard resolve. Sinking onto the couch next to him, the furniture wheezes in protest. “I could go alone.”
“You want Pen to cry at your funeral? Try again.” His knee starts bouncing, a nervous tic. “Can we wait the three days before we move?”
Blaze is getting too cocky. Maybe if we play the part of a scattered, celebrating club, he’ll let his guard down just enough.
“Keep enjoying yourself for now,” I order, the words tasting like ash. “Assume we’re being watched. Keep an eye on more than just Haven.” I stand, the room suddenly too small, the walls closing in.
His brows lift in genuine surprise. “Woah, you said her name. Could that mean…”
“She’s still a spy,” I snap, cutting him off. “See if you can get any information out of her. Anything we can use.” I clear my throat, ignoring the devious chuckle that leaves his lips. Once again, I’m glad I can’t read the chaotic mess of his thoughts.
I need a drink. Fuck, can I even let myself have that small comfort now?
“Prez?” Ripper stands, already backtracking toward the room he shares, toward the warmth waiting for him.
“You won’t be a bad guy if you take advantage of the situation.
” His smile softens into something almost sympathetic.
“Better you watch over Pen than to let someone else, right? Those twins are the only ones without someone watching their back.”
Frowning, I don’t disagree. The logic is sound, but it’s a trap. If I ask anyone else to watch her, I’ll be sick with jealousy. If I do it myself, her nearness will be its own exquisite torture, a distraction I can’t afford. It’s a lose-lose.
When it comes to her, she’s the only person who makes thinking logically impossible.
For now, I’ll think about her sister. First things first, I’ll find someone who can watch over Raven. Someone who can handle the heat of the older twin. Then, maybe… I can ask Penelope what she wants.
The thought is terrifying.