Chapter 4 - Judge
Grace's hands are small and warm when she grabs mine. She's chattering in sign as we walk down the porch steps, her excitement radiating off her in waves.
"Is it very loud? Mama says motorcycles are loud but I can't hear them very much with my aids. Do you have a helmet? Can I touch it? What's your favorite color?"
I sign as fast as she asks. "Yes, it's loud. I have two helmets. Yes, you can touch it. Black."
"Black is boring," she signs with complete confidence. "You should get a red one. Red is exciting."
"I'll consider it."
We reach the bike, and Grace stops, her mouth forming a perfect O.
The Harley's not new. I've had it for five years, rebuilt the engine twice, replaced parts until there's probably more of me in it than the original manufacturer, but it's clean.
Black paint, chrome that catches the morning light, the Iron Phoenix patch on the saddlebag.
Grace walks around it slowly, her eyes huge. Then she looks up at me.
"Can I sit on it?"
I glance back at the house. Nora's standing at the window, watching. I can't see her expression clearly, but I can read her body language. Arms wrapped around herself. Tense. Still shaking from those texts.
Fucking bastard. Making her feel guilty for leaving. Making her doubt herself.
I want the name. Want the address. Want to know exactly where this piece of shit is so I can pay him a visit and explain, very clearly, what happens to men who hurt women and children.
But that's not my call to make. Not yet.
"Judge?" Grace tugs on my vest. "Can I?"
I refocus. Right. The bike. "Yeah. Come here."
I lift her up. She weighs nothing and set her on the seat. Her legs don't even come close to reaching the pegs. She grips the handlebars with both hands, face serious, like she's about to take off down the street.
"This is so cool," she signs with one hand while holding on with the other. "I feel tall."
"You look tough."
"Really?"
"Absolutely. Nobody would mess with you right now."
She beams at that. Sits up straighter. "Mama says I'm brave. Is brave the same as tough?"
"Sometimes. Being brave means doing things even when you're scared. Being tough means not letting things break you." I pause, choosing my words. "You can be both."
"Are you both?"
The question catches me off guard. I look at this five-year-old girl with her wild curls and her complete fearlessness, and I don't know how to answer that.
Am I brave? Maybe. I've walked into gunfire, kicked down doors not knowing what's on the other side, made choices that could have gotten me killed.
Am I tough? Yeah. Two decades in the military and three years in a motorcycle club at war will do that.
But am I both? The kind of person who does hard things without letting them break me?
I don't know anymore. Most days I feel like I'm held together with scar tissue and sheer stubbornness.
"I try to be," I finally sign.
"That's good enough," Grace says. "Mama says trying is what matters."
"Your mama's smart."
"I know." She grins. "She's the smartest person I know. Well, she was. Now you're smart too because you know how to talk with your hands and you have a motorcycle."
I almost smile. Almost. "That's not how smart works."
"Yes it is. I decided."
Hard to argue with that logic.
Grace looks down at the handlebars, then back up at me. Her expression shifts, more serious now. Thoughtful. "Judge?"
"Yeah?"
"The mean man last night. The one you fought. Is he going to come back?"
Fuck. I should have known she'd ask. She's five, not stupid. She saw what happened. Felt her mother's fear.
I crouch down so I'm at her eye level and raise my hands to sign. "Maybe. I don't know. But if he does, I won't let him hurt you or your mama. I promise."
"Are there more mean men?"
"Yeah."
"A lot of them?"
"Yeah."
She processes this, her small face serious. "Are you going to fight all of them?"
"If I have to."
"What if there's too many?"
"Then my brothers will help. The other men in my club. We protect each other. And we protect people who need protecting."
"Like me and Mama?"
"Exactly like you and Mama."
Grace nods slowly. Then she signs, "Okay. I believe you."
Just like that. Simple. Complete trust from a kid who barely knows me.
"Can I ask you something else?" Grace signs.
"Sure."
"Why did Mama cry before?"
I go still. "You saw that?"
"I felt it. She feels different when she's sad. The air gets heavy." Grace tilts her head. "Was it because of my daddy?"
Jesus Christ. This kid is too perceptive.
"Yeah," I sign, because I'm not going to lie to her. "He said things that hurt her feelings."
"He does that a lot. Says mean things and makes Mama cry." Grace's hands move like she's talking about the weather. "That's why we left, I think. Mama didn't tell me but I'm not stupid."
"No, you're definitely not stupid."
"Is my daddy a mean man too? Like the one you fought?"
Fuck. How do I answer that? How do I tell a five-year-old that her father is a manipulative piece of shit without traumatizing her?
"I don't know your daddy," I sign. "But making your mama cry isn't okay. And if he keeps doing it, then yeah. That makes him mean."
Grace considers this. "If he tries to make Mama cry again, will you stop him? Like you stopped the man last night?"
"Yes."
"Good." She pats the handlebars like she's decided something important. "You're nice. You should stay."
"Stay?"
"With us. So Mama doesn't have to be scared anymore. And so I can learn more about motorcycles."
My throat goes tight. "Grace—"
"You don't have to decide right now," she signs seriously, like she's the adult and I'm the kid. "But think about it, okay?"
Before I can respond, the front door opens. Nora steps out onto the porch, and even from here I can see she's been crying. Her eyes are red, her face blotchy, but she's trying to smile. Trying to hold it together for her kid.
"Everything okay out here?" she calls.
"Grace is negotiating to keep the motorcycle," I say.
Nora's smile becomes more real. "Of course she is."
Grace signs at her mother from the bike seat. "Mama, Judge said I look tough!"
"You do look tough," Nora signs back. "Very intimidating."
"Can we get a motorcycle?"
"Absolutely not."
"But Mama—"
"No motorcycles until you're thirty."
Grace slumps dramatically. "That's forever."
"Yep. That's the point." Nora walks down the steps, her arms still wrapped around herself. "Thank you. For this. She hasn't smiled like this in weeks."
"She's a good kid."
"She is." Nora's eyes go to Grace, who's still sitting on the bike pretending to rev the engine. "I don't know what I did to deserve her. But I'm grateful every day."
There's something in her voice. Something that makes me think she's not just talking about Grace. That maybe she's talking about getting out. About having the strength to leave. About choosing her daughter over a man who didn't deserve either of them.
My phone buzzes. I pull it out and see Phoenix's name.
**PHOENIX:** *Status?*
**JUDGE:** *Civilian's house. All clear. No Viper activity.*
**PHOENIX:** *You've been there for eight hours.*
**JUDGE:** *I'm aware.*
**PHOENIX:** *Judge. You need to sleep.*
**JUDGE:** *I'm fine.*
There's a pause. Then another text.
**PHOENIX:** *Brick says you're getting attached.*
**JUDGE:** *Brick should mind his own business.*
**PHOENIX:** *Are you?*
I look at Grace on my bike. At Nora watching her with a full smile on her face. At the house behind them that I've been guarding all night like it's the most important tactical position in the world.
**JUDGE:** *They need protection. I'm providing it. That's the job.*
**PHOENIX:** *That's not what I asked.*
**JUDGE:** *It's the only answer you're getting.*
Another pause.
**PHOENIX:** *Be careful. The Vipers might move soon. And if they think you care about these civilians, they'll use them.*
**JUDGE:** *I know.*
**PHOENIX:** *Then act like it. Don't give them ammunition.*
He's right. I know he's right. Getting attached is dangerous. Caring about Nora and Grace beyond professional protection makes them targets. Makes me predictable.
But I can't seem to stop.
I put the phone away and look up to find Nora watching me.
"Everything okay?" she asks.
"Club business. Nothing urgent."
"You should go. You've been here all night. You must be exhausted."
I am. My eyes are gritty, my back's stiff from sitting on the bike for hours, and I can feel the exhaustion pulling at me. But the thought of leaving them here… Alone, unprotected, with Vipers potentially coming, makes my jaw clench.
"I'm fine."
"Judge." Nora takes a step closer. Her voice drops lower. "I appreciate everything you've done. More than I can say. But I can't ask you to keep sacrificing for us. You have your own life. Your own responsibilities."
"This is my responsibility."
"We're strangers."
"You stopped being strangers the second that Viper put his hands on you."
She looks at me for a long moment. Then she glances at Grace, who's still on the bike, signing to herself about something. When Nora speaks again, her voice is even quieter.
"What happens now? With the Vipers. With us. What happens?"
"I don't know yet. Depends on whether they decide you're worth pursuing. Whether they think using you as leverage against me is worth the risk."
"And if they do?"
"Then we deal with it."
"We?"
"The Iron Phoenix. Me and my brothers. We'll keep you safe."
"You can't promise that."
"Yeah," I say. "I can."
Nora's eyes search my face like she's looking for the lie. The catch. The moment where I reveal this is all conditional, that protection comes with a price.
She's not going to find it.
I don't know how to explain that to her. Don't know how to tell her that I haven't felt this certain about anything in years. That protecting her and Grace feels less like a duty and more like…
Like purpose.
"Why?" Nora asks finally. "Why do you care so much? You don't know us. We're nothing to you."
Grace chooses that moment to sign at me from the bike. "Judge, can you teach me how to ride when I'm older? Not thirty like Mama said. Maybe fifteen?"
I sign back. "Ask me when you're fifteen."
"That's not a no!" She pumps her fist in victory.
I look back at Nora. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears again, but she's smiling. Actually smiling.
"That's why," I say. "Because she's five years old and she deserves to grow up without being scared. Because you deserve to sleep without checking over your shoulder. Because if I can give you that, even for a little while, then all of this is worth it."
Nora's breath hitches. "Judge…"
My phone rings. Phoenix again. I answer.
"Yeah."
"We've got movement." Phoenix's voice is tight. The voice he uses when shit's about to hit the fan. "Brick just spotted three Vipers on the northern route. Headed toward town."
My blood goes cold. "How long?"
"Ten minutes. Maybe less."
"They coming for the house?"
"Don't know yet. But I'm not taking chances. I'm sending Saint and Canvas your way. They'll be there in ten."
"Copy."
"Judge." Phoenix pauses. "If they're coming for her, if they know about the civilian, you pull back. You don't engage three-on-one to protect a stranger. You understand?"
I look at Nora. At Grace still sitting on my bike with that bright, fearless smile.
"Yeah," I lie. "I understand."
Phoenix knows I'm lying. "Goddammit, Judge!"
"Saint and Canvas are ten minutes out. I'll hold until then."
"You'd better." He hangs up.
I turn to Nora, and her smile is gone. She heard my tone shift. Saw my expression change.
"What is it?" she asks.
"Vipers. Coming this way. I don't know if they're coming here specifically, but I'm not taking chances.
" I move toward Grace, gently lifting her off the bike.
"You need to get her inside. Lock the doors.
Don't open them for anyone except me or two men named Saint and Canvas.
They're my brothers. They're coming to help. "
Nora's face goes pale. "Grace…"
"I know." I crouch down to Grace's level, signing as I speak. "Grace, I need you to go inside with your mama. Right now. And I need you to be very brave. Can you do that?"
Grace's eyes go wide. "Are the mean men coming?"
"Maybe. I don't know yet. But I'm going to make sure they don't get anywhere near you. I promise."
"You're not coming inside?"
"Not yet. I'm going to stay out here and watch. Make sure everything's safe."
Grace's lower lip trembles. "What if they hurt you?"
"They won't."
"You don't know that."
"Yes I do. Because I've been doing this for a very long time. And I'm very good at it."
Grace stares at me. Then she throws her arms around my neck, hugging me as tight as a five-year-old can.
"Be careful," she signs against my shoulder. "Please."
I sign back against her small back. "I will. I promise."
When she pulls away, there are tears on her cheeks. Nora scoops her up immediately, holding her close, her own eyes wet.
"Go," I tell them. "Now."
Nora nods and carries Grace toward the house. At the door, she stops and looks back.
"Judge?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't die."
It's not romantic. It's not poetic. It's just a terrified woman asking a stranger not to get killed protecting her.
"I won't," I say.
Then they're inside. The door locks. And I'm alone in the street with my bike and ten minutes until three Vipers arrive.
I pull out my phone and call Saint.
**JUDGE:** *How far out?*
**SAINT:** *Fifteen minutes. Canvas is with me.*
**JUDGE:** *Vipers are maybe ten out. Could go either way.*
**SAINT:** *You need backup before we get there?*
**JUDGE:** *Negative. I'm good.*
**SAINT:** *Don't do anything stupid.*
**JUDGE:** *Define stupid.*
**SAINT:** *Engaging three Vipers alone to protect a woman you met twelve hours ago.*
**JUDGE:** *Then I guess I'm about to do something stupid.*
I put the phone away. Check my knife. My gun's in the saddlebag, and I pull it out, check the magazine, slide it into the back of my waistband.
Then I stand next to my bike and wait. The street is quiet. Empty. Morning sun warming the pavement. Birds singing in the trees. Everything peaceful.
For now.
I think about Grace asking if I was a superhero. About Nora's smile when her daughter laughed. About the way it felt when Grace grabbed my hand without fear.
About Phoenix's warning: *Don't give them ammunition.*
Too late.
I'm already attached.
And I'm not letting them anywhere near that house.