Chapter 5 Judge
Judge
For a man living his fantasy, I should be happy. Hell, I should be celebrating this turn of events. Penelope is mine for the time being.
Nothing has really changed from our usual routine. Penelope manages the bar with her typical smile. Although now isn’t the best moment to stay close to her, given all the members inside, I find myself holding onto the stool beneath me.
Across the room, I can hear Ghost cursing as his fingers dig into his laptop. He’s upset, probably struggling to get into their camera feeds. Jumping straight back into his habits, I’m glad he’s just as excited to squash this bug.
They’ve moved their clubhouse over the last few years, and thanks to Haven, we know exactly where to pinpoint it. However, her knowledge doesn’t extend beyond the entrance of the building.
Scowling at the thought of not knowing everything I need to now, Penelope notices and drifts in my direction.
Keeping up with our usual habits, she presents a bottle of beer like it holds all the answers to all of my problems. Before she can set it down, I’m turning it down.
“No?” Penelope cradles the bottle, her smile growing soft. “Don’t tell me you’re cutting back.”
I scoff at the very thought. “It’s going to take something big to replace that. But, no. I need to focus.”
Funny that I’ve paired up with the biggest distraction in the room.
She chuckles like she has her own little joke only she understands. Turning away to put it back, I watch as Warden’s the one to offer to take it off her hands. He’s already had a couple, like he’s trying to wash down his own problems.
I told him he’d be leading this ride when it happened. Is it nerves he’s trying to wash down, or is it something else?
While I could ask, everyone here has their own issues. If he’s like me, he doesn’t want to go spouting off his own weaknesses.
Dragging my attention over to the prospects, there are too many of them missing. I glance at Trouble and watch as he chats up Smoke and Ace, the set of brothers keeping a close eye on him as they play cards.
Trouble was one of those assholes before Haven talked Ripper into dragging him here. He’s the one who should have all the information I need. He might be wearing a prospect cut, but I’m not so warm to the idea of having him lingering so casually.
Even with a face covered in bandages, proof of an assault from those bastards, it’s not enough to settle this weight in my gut.
If his sister came here to snag Eliza, what’s to say he won’t try to do the very same to save himself and return to his club?
What if Blaze made a pit stop and chatted with him?
The thought is enough to make my upper lip curl.
“Judge?” Pen’s voice is soft, cautious. She has this weird power, knowing when I get worked up.
“I’m fine. Just need to have a conversation, that’s all.” Moving to stand, I force a small smile. “Should be alright.”
It depends on how the conversation goes.
Leaving the bar, I stroll over to them. Catching their game, a simple round of poker, I ignore Ace’s cautious glance as he feels the weight of my stare.
Smoke picks up on it soon, but only his posture stiffens up.
I don’t mean to feel amused, but I swear, most of the prospects stiffen up whenever I come near.
I hope Diesel hasn’t told them to fear me. I’m no threat. Then again, I did ask everyone to watch Ripper’s punishment to prove a point.
Trouble frowns at his cards, but I can’t tell if it’s due to a bad hand or because he’s kept the same expression since he arrived.
Waiting for them to finish, Ace swallows down his victory with a grimace. “Want in the next round? We’re not placing any bets, just trying to pass the time, that’s all.”
Like he can coax me into falling for the same trap the one on my right has, he finds the strength to work a grin on his lips.
Trouble bares his teeth like a wounded dog, his pride sore from what looks like too many games that have ended in the same result. There’s a reason people don’t play any card games with these two.
“Think I’ll pass.” Shifting my gaze to Trouble, I roll a shoulder. “Don’t hold it against them.” Offering a hint of a smile, I take in the brothers. “They cheat when they play. Unless you know their tricks, you can’t tell the difference.”
Ace doesn’t deny my words, but wears a smile that shines. Smoke scoffs, offended. “Got proof, old man?”
Hard not to notice how many drinks Ace wants to take from his water, or how many times Smoke curses under his breath despite clearly winning. That doesn’t even include their combined talents of counting cards, no matter what game they play.
Can’t let them realize just how observant I am without making them change things up. Then again, I’m not in the mood to give myself a headache by playing their game. I’ve already got enough going on up there.
“Call me that again, and I won’t give you the job I had in mind.” Keeping my voice light, I even crack a smile despite the insult. “Without Diesel, you’re probably bored of hanging around.”
Ace’s chair scrapes, and he’s already on his feet. His excitement gives me a taste of nostalgia. “Should’ve started with that. What do you need?”
“Need you to run a sweep of the perimeter. Enjoy some fresh air while you’re at it. Tell me if anything suspicious pops up.” Jerking my chin to motion them to leave, I watch as they don’t think twice to abandon the cards so they can taste a little freedom.
Even the prospects are feeling the pressure of everything that’s going on. It’s a terrible thing.
Taking a seat next to him, I gather the cards in my hands and take in their worn shape. Shared by everyone, it’s a shame to see how rough the cards are. Some are bent, some faded so poorly that it wouldn’t take much effort to memorize which one is which.
Trouble doesn’t speak, nor do I expect him to. So, I fill the silence between us with the sound of cards slapping against each other. One slips from my hold, falling beneath the table.
“You’re terrible at that.” His voice is a murmur, his eyes tracking the clumsy motion of my fingers.
“Not trying to impress anyone,” I say, my tone flat and even. I keep my gaze down, feeling the heat of his glare on the crown of my head. “Just passing the time while I figure out your endgame.”
He shouldn’t be shocked by my suspicion. The club might have provided him with leather and shelter, but we’re not a charity. We’re a pack of wolves, and he smells like a wounded bear. My judgment only makes his scowl worse. No one enjoys being the black sheep or sticking out like a broken bone.
“I’m not the kind to beat around the bush.
” I finally lift my head and meet his gaze dead-on.
The anger in his eyes is a familiar fire; I’ve seen it in my own reflection.
“I don’t trust you. I still don’t trust Haven, either.
I don’t like the way she has my VP wrapped around her finger, and I don’t like that he offered you a place here without running it by me first.”
Ripper’s a good judge of character. He wouldn’t have pinned the name ‘Trouble’ on this one if it didn’t fit like a second skin. Despite that judgment, he loves to make decisions that irk me.
“I don’t want to be here,” he admits, and it sounds like the truth, scraped raw from the bottom of his soul.
To my surprise, he reaches out and plucks the deck from my hands.
His fingers, though bruised, move with a practiced, fluid grace.
The cards snap and weave, a sharp, professional shuffle that mocks my own fumbling.
“Meadow Falls is a death sentence, and Haven won’t leave that bastard’s side.
Right now, this is all I’ve got. Even if all I’m getting is pitied looks and judgmental interviews from a man who thinks this conversation is necessary. ”
“Can’t blame me, can you?” I sit back, crossing my arms over my chest. I try to pick him apart, looking for the lie in the set of his jaw, the flicker in his eyes.
But all I see is the same damage I recognize in all my brothers—the broken edges and the stubborn pride. “Your president isn’t a fan of mine.”
“Blaze,” he seethes, the name a venomous curse, “can burn in hell. He’s nothing to me.”
“So, you’re telling me if we rode out tonight and put a bullet in his brain, you wouldn’t shed a tear? Wouldn’t hold a grudge and come looking for payback?”
A harsh, bitter laugh punches its way out of him. He grips his side, his face paling as the amusement aggravates his injuries. “Give me a gun,” he wheezes, shaking his head. “I’ll pull the trigger for you. Bastard deserves a twelve-gauge surprise party.”
Well. It seems we’ve found one patch of common ground.
His eyes drift past me, toward where Ghost is hunched over a laptop, his fingers a frantic blur. “He’s struggling, isn’t he?” Trouble says, his voice dropping. “Blaze knows where to put his money. I won’t be surprised if you can’t crack their systems. He pays their hacker well.”
I don’t like that he can read our struggles so easily, the weakness laid bare after less than a day. I bite the inside of my cheek, the coppery taste of frustration blooming.
“Take me with you.” He says it like it’s the simplest solution in the world, his brows drawn together in a determined line. “You need a guide? I’ll give you a grand tour of the place. Every back door, every weak spot.”
The anger in his words is a tangible heat. It’s rare to find resentment this pure, this undiluted. This can’t just be about the beating. There’s a deeper well here, poisoned at the source.
“Why? You’ve got no loyalty to this club. So why risk your neck going back? Unless you’re planning to slip right back into their good graces the second we turn our backs.”
He jerks his chin, avoiding my eyes. I think it’s a display of weakness until I realize he’s looking at Haven, who’s talking quietly with Ripper across the room. “You got family?”
The question is a gut punch. Only child. Mom croaked. Father’s a ghost I’d happily make permanent. “Can’t say that I do.”
“Well, he threatened mine. Haven’s been through hell, and I did stupid, ugly things to keep her safe.
Things I regret.” His face contorts, a mask of pure agony that has nothing to do with his bruised ribs.
“I owe it to her to fight with the strength she doesn’t have.
You don’t have to give me a gun. I don’t give a fuck.
Just take me with you. My bare hands will be enough. ”
I’ll admit it—I like the heat burning inside him. That kind of devotion is a weapon. A dangerous, double-edged one, but a weapon nonetheless.
“You’re in no condition to fight,” I tell him, stating the obvious. I follow his gaze to Haven. “If you don’t betray us, you’ll hold us back. No offense. I mean, they did have to rescue you.”
His fingers curl against the cards, his knuckles white. The offense is clear as day. “They kept me tied up for a reason.”
Ripper said he still had fight in him when he found him, a bloody mess but not broken. He must have been a force. It makes me wonder what finally broke the camel’s back. Better to ask the source.
When I do, he just rolls a shoulder, a gesture of cold defiance.
“Stole money. Paid off our debt with it. With Blaze, you’re always living on borrowed time.
He’s gone mad, and I couldn’t risk waiting for the day he decided to collect, leaving that burden on Haven.
If I had the chance to do it over, I would’ve taken more. Enough to run and never look back.”
“Does she know that?” I cock a brow, my mouth curving into a faint, knowing smile.
“Nope.” He returns his scowl to the table. “And I’m not going to tell her, either. Don’t need her to blame herself more than she already does.”
Well. At least one good thing about this new recruit—he’s more honest than I gave him credit for.
“Better avoid Stacks, then. He takes his job as club treasurer very seriously.” I crack a genuine smile this time and push myself to my feet.
The chair legs scrape against the concrete floor.
“Fine. You can come. Get yourself killed, and that’s one less problem for me.
Survive, and you might just make us stronger. ”
A look of pure, unadulterated relief breaks through the cracks in his hardened expression. He nods, surprising me with a quiet, “Thank you.”
Happy to make him feel even more at ease, I tell him he’s free to relax. With Smoke and Ace gone, he should try to enjoy himself.
Half of me hopes that he gets comfortable. If he is playing a double game, he’ll get sloppy and we’ll catch him in the act. The other half hopes he’s not that foolish. I don’t enjoy being the bad guy.
Either way, the club comes first. It always has. One small slip, one wrong move, and that’s all the excuse I’ll need to put him down. After that, no one else, not Ripper, not Haven, will be able to question my decision.
“A refresher.” Penelope slides a glass toward me as I settle back at the bar. The ice clinks, a cheerful sound at odds with the tension coiling in my shoulders. “Drink it.”
I grunt, my nose scrunching at the vibrant, fruity concoction. I cradle the cold glass in my hand, a sigh escaping me.
“He’s pretty nice, you know?” Her smile is soft as she gazes past me, toward Trouble. “Despite how he looks, I mean. Like you, kind of. You should cut him some slack. He’s been through a lot.”
My snort makes her smile grow.
“He’s dangerous,” I say, the words a low rumble.
Leaning against the bar, she pins me with a look, her next laugh a secret meant just for me. “Aren’t you, too?”
I enjoy the warmth of her attention, the way it chases the shadows from the room. I have to bite back a groan. “Sure am.”
Just not as dangerous as she is. Penelope is lethal in ways Trouble could never comprehend. The moment she realizes the power she holds over me, I’m a goner.